The Letter
by Luv22
Summary: While at Netherfield, before the assembly, Mr. Darcy discovers a letter young Elizabeth wrote years earlier to her future husband.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** While at Netherfield, before the assembly, Mr. Darcy discovers a letter young Elizabeth wrote years earlier to her future husband.

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 **The Letter**

One must do what one must to avoid Miss Bingley for as long as possible. Mr. Darcy was sitting at the writing desk by the window, his letter to Georgiana finished, and he was keeping up the appearance of being occupied. It was a wonder that he had been able to finish in a timely fashion; Miss Bingley was playing the pianoforte and entertaining them with her singing. Her tone was probably a better fit for a tavern near London's docks. Not that he was implying anything regarding Miss Bingley, but sailors who had spent months at sea were most likely the only ones who could hear anything lovely in her voice.

At that moment, another high note soared through the space ... or rather, soured the space. One of these days a window would crack, Darcy was sure of it. The large feather in her headpiece shook along with her head as she stretched the note. That same feather had tickled Mr. Hurst's nose during dinner, sending him into a sneezing frenzy, when Miss Bingley turned to Darcy to inquire if the dinner was to his taste.

Mrs. Hurst clapped enthusiastically as the song came to an end and Mr. Hurst joined in, though more likely because he could sleep without strange bird calls waking him; the man turned first to the windows every time Miss Bingley's voice woke him. As she rose from the pianoforte's seat, Miss Bingley once again told them the story of how much the schoolmistress had loved her voice. The poor woman must have had a hearing problem but didn't want it to become known.

Miss Bingley was not subtle about her aspirations for the future, and again, she tried to turn Darcy's attention toward herself. "Music affects the spirit. Do you agree, Mr. Darcy?"

He suppressed a sigh and looked at her. She had a small smile on her face, and he wasn't sure whether she was trying to be alluring or trying to prevent wrinkles. "Yes, I find it very soothing when Georgiana plays," he answered.

While Charles Bingley, one of his dearest friends and his host at Netherfield, covered his laugh with a cough, Miss Bingley's expression tightened before a broader smile made its appearance. "And how is dear Georgiana faring? Do send her my regards. She is such a sweet girl."

"Yes, she is." With that, Darcy returned his focus to the letter in front of him. It had only been a few days since their arrival at Netherfield, and the following night they would be attending the assembly. As much as Darcy wasn't looking forward to the event, it also might be a welcome relief from Miss Bingley and her need to fill the room with her presence. There was rarely a moment of quiet, of peace. Miss Bingley, at least, liked her own voice.

Darcy studied the carvings on the desk as he stretched his time there. From experience, he knew that the moment he sat down on the armchair with his book, Miss Bingley would do her best to draw him into a conversation. Speaking of his book, he noticed she'd moved it again—he left it on the table next to the armchair, and she moved it to the table next to the sofa, where she sat. The first time it had happened, she made a comment about how the maids must have moved it when they dusted the room earlier. Darcy highly doubted whether anyone believed her.

As he continued to study the carvings, Darcy suddenly noticed something—each of the flower heads on the front of the desk appeared one with the wood, except the middle one had a groove around the circle in the middle. Curious, Darcy pushed it but nothing happened. He pushed a little harder and suddenly the button went into the desk. His ears caught a soft sound just before a thin drawer in the center of the desk popped outward. That was unexpected. It was above the middle drawer and previously it had appeared as part of the structure.

Darcy was about to call Bingley over when he noticed the corner of a page peeking out. He pulled the thin drawer out a little further and slid the page from its hiding place for who knew how many years. Unfolding the paper, he discovered it was a letter. It was dated 1804.

 _Dear future husband. ..._

Darcy folded the letter. Even if the people were long gone, he didn't want to read the letter that a young woman wrote to her betrothed. Still, something about the handwriting pulled at him, so he decided to just read the first part. He told himself the letter would not have been left there if it was important.

 _You don't know me yet. ..._

Darcy's eyebrows rose slightly. That was certainly unforeseen.

 _Society would say that it is a breach of propriety to write to a man unconnected to me. However, by the time you will be reading this letter, you will be connected to me, rendering the point moot, does it not?_

Darcy could feel he was about to smile. The woman's clever mind was evident. Though curious about the rest of the contents, he decided to wait to read the rest until after he retired for the evening. Laughing in Miss Bingley's company could only be seen as encouragement and that would not do. Until then, the letter found a new hiding place inside his coat. He closed the drawer without a word and the little button popped out again.

Later that evening, as he sat in a comfortable chair in front of a fire in his room, Darcy held the paper in the light and continued to read. He began the letter from the start.

 _Dear future husband,_

 _You don't know met yet. Society would say that it is a breach of propriety to write to a man unconnected to me. However, by the time you will be reading this letter, you will be connected to me, rendering the point moot, does it not?_

 _The events that took place recently caused me to realize that you need to be prepared. Allow me to explain myself. My name is Elizabeth Bennet, and my mother is Frances Bennet. If you knew her and our circumstances, no further explanation would be needed. Nor this letter, in fact. Recently, my mother had her hopes dashed as she was sure my sweet sister, Jane, was soon to be matched. That event did not come to pass, and the respite provided from Mamma's nerves by my friend Ginny has been a blessing. Ginny is Miss Morris from Netherfield, and I've been staying here as she recovers from a terrible cold. The land between Longbourn and Netherfield Park is a path I enjoy walking. This letter, however, is about my family and not about wonderful friendships._

 _To start with, please do not run when you hear Lydia, my youngest sister. She is five years younger than I am. It seems as though she came screaming into the world, and she has been making sure she's heard since that day. As I'm writing this letter to you, I am three and ten. Besides Jane, Lydia and myself, I have two other sisters. Allow me now to tell you about the entail and why it feels as if Mamma is wishing for us to grow quickly and marry even quicker. And marry well, let that be said._

Darcy lost track of time as he read the letter. When he finished, he read it again. The young girl had painted a portrait of her family with love, with humor and with observation beyond her years. He found himself smiling. She had definitely managed to warn the reader, but she had done it with love and with vibrancy. Unexpectedly, he wished he could've met her to see if she had the same infectious joy as she came across in the letter.

He lifted the first page and stared at her signature at the bottom of the second.

 _One day yours, Elizabeth_

He flipped back to the first page and stared at her family name: Bennet. Bingley had told him that a Mr. Thomas Bennet of Longbourn had called the day before he had arrived. Was Elizabeth still in the neighborhood? He paused as he thought her name. She may have seemed familiar to him after the letter, but the truth of the matter was that she was not. Something akin to regret passed through him as he wondered whether she was married—it was possible, even probable, for she must be twenty.

Suddenly, Darcy found himself looking forward to the assembly. Perhaps she would be there and he could meet her. He knew had a duty to his family, but he had seen the love between his own parents. If he allowed himself to dream, perhaps he would meet Elizabeth at the assembly and she would still be unattached. Perhaps, someday, he would even get the opportunity to return the letter to her.

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 **AN: This is my first Pride and Prejudice story, and I apologize for any errors. I'm not very familiar with the era. This idea came to me and would not let go until I wrote it. Thanks for reading!**

 ***Update: Wow, the reaction to this story has blown me away! To say that I did not expect it is an understatement. Thank you so much! At this time, I do not have a full story planned out, only the details behind this first part and general ideas regarding the rest. I'm going to see if a sequel, short story or a longer story develop. I also have another story on my profile that I want to finish first, it's almost done, but this one is mainly occupying my thoughts. I'm going to leave this story as complete until it has been outlined and fully or partially written, depending on the length. Thank you for the warm welcome!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** **I'm still processing the incredible response this story received. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for every review, favorite and alert. Admittedly, there is a bit of pressure to meet expectation, and I hope you like the story. Please read the note at the end. Without further ado, here is the continuation of the Letter.**

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 **The Letter**

 **Chapter 2**

The words of the letter stayed with Darcy as he went to bed, and they followed him into his dreams in an unexpected manner. The words changed the scenes of the visions and haunted him. In the nightmare, he hadn't been able to prevent his sister's elopement with George Wickham—or dishonorable, dastardly Wickham, given that the man was a scoundrel and not one word seemed strong enough to convey how low he had dared to go.

As Darcy woke from the restless sleep, he pushed himself up against the headboard and ran his hands over his face and into his hair. It didn't feel as though peaceful sleep would come soon. He sat there until the images of his dream forced him to get up and move, as though he would be able to escape them. Carefully making his way to the window, he found that the oppressive darkness outside did nothing to aid his inner turmoil. He'd had nightmares about the near tragedy for a period afterwards, but it had been better until that night. However, this particular version of events in the dream was new, and his thoughts kept turning the images over and over.

Over the years, Darcy had bought Wickham's debt for two reasons—one, because of the unfortunate people taken in by the despicable man's charms, and two, if the need ever arose for he required leverage over Wickham. That day had come a few months earlier, but due to possible risk to Georgiana's reputation, Darcy hadn't done anything and Wickham walked away. In the true recount of the event, Darcy had told him that he would not be able to get his hands on Georgiana's dowry, which had led to his loss of interest and subsequent disappearance. In the nightmare, however, he had told Wickham that his debts were almost two thirds of Georgiana's dowry and that he should consider the debts paid. Darcy had proceeded to give only the rest of the amount to Wickham, who quickly gambled it away before abandoning Georgiana shortly afterwards. She'd been too ashamed to write to Darcy, and she'd had nowhere to go. Her fear, her desperation, her sorrow, all of her emotions screamed to be heard in the nightmare.

All she had felt continued to haunt Darcy. Never would he do that to his sister, take her dowry, but the dream left him shaken nonetheless. Did she know she could always come to him?

Feeling his sister's desperation also had another effect. All of his life, Darcy knew that he would inherit Pemberley, among other holdings, and he had always been secure in that knowledge. There had never been a day where he knew anything else. Following the nightmare, the desperation continued to claw at him inside and caused his thoughts to turn to the Bennets. What must the uncertainty be like for Mrs. Bennet and her daughters? Their livelihoods were contingent on the breath of another. The cousin might be inclined to help during the mourning period, but it was not certain if he would assist them afterwards.

Darcy felt his way through the dark and walked over to the table beside the bed, where he picked up the letter. It felt heavier somehow after the haunting images of the nightmare. He had always felt protective over Georgiana, especially after he became one of her guardians upon the death of his father. At that moment, he also felt stirrings of protectiveness toward young Elizabeth. She might not need it, if she had gotten married, but he found himself wanting to be there for her.

Though he didn't want to light a candle to be able to read it again, he still unfolded the letter and held a page in each hand. The words had been written from the perspective of a young girl, and he wondered if she had kept her joy as the years went by with a shadow hovering overhead. Again, he wondered if she had married, for there was a certain amount of pressure on her and her sisters, as she had described. Mr. Bennet, though, must be in good health if he was able to call on Bingley. Then again, strength and endurance could be born out of need.

Darcy's mind returned to Georgiana. He needed to write to her. She needed to know that he would be there for her if she needed him, and he would be there for as long as he breathed.

Sitting down in the chair in front of the fireplace, with only embers lingering here and there, he knew sleep would continue to evade him. He sat in the mostly dark room and thought about the assembly. He wanted to meet Elizabeth, and he knew that without any doubt. He couldn't explain it, but he felt a pull towards her, to the woman she must have become. With his elbow on the armrest, his forefinger resting against his mouth, he reminded himself that he should not call her by her Christian name. It would be too easy to accidentally call her by her name instead of addressing her properly. He could only hope that she was still _Miss_ Elizabeth. Though, he could hardly begrudge her if she had found happiness with someone.

Time passed as he sat there preoccupied with his thoughts. The darkness left behind by the nightmare was eventually broken as he recalled parts of Elizabeth's letter; specifically, her tone. A small smile followed and thoughts of the letter led him down another path — he wondered if her family called her Elizabeth. There was something about the signature at the end of the letter that made him believe otherwise. It was almost as though she was signing as a proper young lady addressing a gentleman. The name Elizabeth was elegant. Darcy couldn't help but think that there was another name connected to the joyful, intelligent and adventurous side. As he considered the options, "Beth" didn't quite become her and neither did "Eliza." Then, it came to him: _Lizzy_. Lizzy fit the personality in the letter, and he found himself smiling at the thought. Nevertheless, she'd become Elizabeth to him.

Looking towards the window, Darcy realized he needed to get some sleep. It wouldn't be long before the first rays brushed across the landscape, and he was an early riser. He needed his strength for what the day might bring, since there would be many things to consider if the assembly turned out favorably.

~P&P~

"Charles, I do believe I'm coming down with something," Miss Bingley said as she touched the back of her hand to her forehead. They were in the carriage on their way to the Meryton Assembly, and Darcy was confident that she was preparing for their party to make an early exit. Miss Bingley made no secret of the fact that she believed the local company beneath them. Then again, it was probable that her elaborate headpiece came with a promise of pain.

Darcy frowned. If Elizabeth— _Miss_ Elizabeth, he inwardly corrected—was at the assembly and unattached, then he would tolerate no interference from Miss Bingley. "Perhaps you should've stayed behind, Miss Bingley," Darcy replied and soon regretted it.

"Oh, Mr. Darcy, you are too kind in your concern." The tone of her voice clearly conveyed that she was flattered. She definitely had the ability to enhance words to her liking.

Frowning with disapproval, Darcy turned to Bingley. "We are not that far from Netherfield. Perhaps your sister should retire early this evening as we continue on without her." Too late he realized he could be misunderstood, since it sounded as though he intended for Miss Bingley to walk back. That would be out of character for him, though; it was not the behavior of a gentleman. "The delay would not be great were we to make the trip," he added.

"Oh no, no, there's no need, I assure you," Miss Bingley quickly replied. "I'm sure to feel better once we arrive."

Due to politeness, no one mentioned what they all thought—a loud and crowded area had never been known for curing ailments. Darcy knew he was the reason why she hadn't leaped for the chance of escape; he was expected to dance at least once with the ladies of his party. He truly needed to find her a husband. The Earl of Dunham perhaps—the man was advanced in years, but a bit of hearing loss could be a good thing all things considered.

On their arrival, Darcy noticed with a flare of irritation that they were last to arrive. Miss Bingley had taken her time getting ready, and there was no missing the fact that she had planned a grand entrance down the stairs at Netherfield. Nor her sister's rehearsed exclamations of how lovely she looked. If Darcy _had_ noticed, he would've seen her bright orange gown and extravagant headpiece. However, his thoughts had been filled with a certain writer who might be at the assembly, and he'd found himself impatient after the long wait. Thus, he could not have given a description of Miss Bingley's appearance even if it was vital for someone to know.

As Darcy descended the carriage and stood to the side, he looked at the entrance to the hall before him and wondered yet again if Elizabeth was present. As a result, he also failed to notice as Miss Bingley pushed in front of Mrs. Hurst and held her hand towards him so that he might assist her. The absentmindedness did not last long, but it was long enough to force Miss Bingley into accepting the hand of the footman. She did not hide her dissatisfaction well, though she quickly rearranged her expression into appearing demure with a small smile.

Darcy took a deep fortifying breath before doing his duty by offering his arm. Miss Bingley's hand came to rest gracefully on his arm, though in his mind it felt more like a talon. Her victorious smile matched the feeling, as though everything was going according to whatever plan she had devised. Darcy kept his expression solemn as he hid the discomfort he felt.

Let it be said that husband-hunting was a battlefield of a similar nature to what His Majesty's army faced—there was strategy and plots involved with the need to be alert. Losing one's life was only stretched out over lifelong periods if found in matrimonial unhappiness.

The thought brought memories of his parents' marriage. He knew his duty, what was expected of him, but he also had his future offspring to think about; they deserved to witness love, respect and companionship, not grudging tolerance. Not two strangers in the same house. It was true that there was choice in love, choosing to love in an arranged marriage and working at finding felicity, but that was a difficult road without assurance of success. The marriage of his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, came to mind. Sir Lewis de Bourgh had certainly done all he could to love her, but the effort had been strained for it was one-sided—Lady Catherine placed duty and practicality above emotion.

Darcy realized his was at a point where his decision could have a lasting impact on his life. He could enter the hall and let hope lead, or he could enter and deny what could be. Unknowingly, Miss Bingley secured the tipping of the scale. As the door opened and the room fell silent, her gripped tightened slightly as though she was sending a missive to all who gazed at them. The moment brought resolve. Darcy wanted the life in his home to be more than tolerable; tolerable couldn't tempt him to offer his hand.

For that reason, he let hope lead and his gaze drifted over the crowd, suddenly coming to a stop as his eyes met a fine pair over the span of the room. He couldn't see her expression fully, but there was no mistaken the appearance of amusement. Darcy felt instantly drawn to her, and he wondered if she could be the one who occupied his thoughts since the previous evening. Was it Elizabeth?

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 **AN: I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I truly appreciate hearing from you. On that note, my other story isn't finished yet, so I would like to know which of these two options you prefer — update when possible or wait until most of this story is written and I'm able to post often? Thanks again for the incredible reaction this story has received!**


	3. Chapter 3

**The Letter**

 **Chapter 3**

It never ceased to astound Darcy how fast and far gossip could spread. He was introduced to Sir William Lucas, who led the Netherfield party across the room towards his family. As far as they went, the undercurrent of whispers swirled around them. _Ten thousand a year … likely more … large estate._ It was the same with the Ton, except their eyes said more than their words. Since he came of age to marry, he always felt like a game bird entering the room with hunters all around. It was not pleasant, though some did enjoy the feeling more than others.

After Sir William introduced them to his wife and children, Bingley asked the eldest, Miss Charlotte Lucas, for the first dance. Darcy, on the other hand, was distracted and was also in a difficult position. Not only had he lost the beautiful woman in the crowd and couldn't find her again, but Miss Bingley's expectation to be asked filled the air more than her heady perfume.

"Are you going to dance, Mr. Darcy?" she asked when he didn't say anything.

"No more than I can help it," he responded as his gaze roamed over the room. Silence followed and there was no doubt that she was trying to think of another helpful push, short of physically assisting him with a hand on the back to join the lined up couples.

Miss Bingley smiled with a condescending expression on her face. "These people would never fit into the first circles of society. Did you see that family over there? The girls came and went so quickly, but it looks like there are five of them, if not more, and they're all out. It's hard to believe, but it's true."

"Then, it's a good thing we're in the country and no one is trying to fit in, is it not?" he answered without truly giving her his attention. Something she had said stuck in his mind, causing him to quickly turn to her. "Did you say five?"

She smiled triumphantly. "Yes, five girls and not a ring in sight. I have an eye for these things, you know."

 _Oh, I know,_ Darcy thought, fighting not to grimace. He really needed to find someone to marry her, because he wasn't willing to volunteer. With grudging acceptance, he realized he would have to dance with her in order to free his arm. Fortunately, the first set was nearing its end, and the second set was a safer choice as far as Miss Bingley was concerned; it was best to avoid anything that could be seen as matrimonial intent.

"Miss Bingley, may I have the pleasure of dancing the second set with you?" If his voice sounded more monotone than enthusiastic, it could not be helped.

She let go of his arm and performed a deep curtsy, keeping his gaze. "It would be my honor, Mr. Darcy." Her voice sounded a little husky, though he suspected that was more due to the fact that she hoped it was alluring than her truly coming down with an ailment.

His attention immediately returned to trying to find the dark-haired beauty he had seen earlier. That was when he noticed Bingley asking Miss Lucas to make an introduction to a blonde woman, and Darcy kept an eye on the woman Bingley would describe as an angel, sure she'd earlier been by the side of the woman he was looking for.

During the dance, Darcy was preoccupied with searching the faces of the bystanders standing at the edge of the area. Thus, he was completely caught unaware when the couples circled each other, and suddenly, she was there. She came around his back and met her partner to his right, while his attention had previously been to the left in Bingley's direction. Their eyes locked and then they were circling each other, hands held up against each other with the slightest of touches. He almost said her name, to see if it was Elizabeth, but then the dance returned them to their own partners. He was so lost in thought that he accidentally stepped on Miss Bingley's foot, and he remained entirely unaware of the fact.

"Oww! I mean, oh! What a wonderful dance." Miss Bingley's smile was tight. "Do you agree, Mr. Darcy?"

"Ardently," he replied with his gaze on the dark haired beauty. He saw a slight blush rise on her cheeks, which might've been contributed to the exercise, but he hoped it was because she heard him. His breath almost caught when she suddenly looked up and met his eyes. There was something intriguing, challenging and a spark of joy in her gaze. The look didn't last long before her eyes turned elsewhere, he doubted anyone had noticed the exchange, but it stuck with him. That's when the thought struck that she could be dancing with her husband. His gaze quickly went from her hand to her partner—her finger bore no jewelry, and her partner was the eldest son of Sir William. The young William Lucas had not been introduced with a wife, and never before had such a detail seemed so important.

As the dance came to an end, all of the participants turned to the musicians to applaud them. Darcy glanced to his right, hoping to ask Mr. Lucas for an introduction, but the couples disappeared quickly into the surrounding observers and Miss Bingley was waiting for him to return her to their party. By the time they joined Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, Darcy had lost track of the woman again. He could not believe it. If it was always this difficult to find a certain woman at a ball, there would be fewer weddings, he was sure of it.

That thought solidified as the evening continued. He danced the third with Mrs. Hurst, fulfilling his obligations for the night, and moved about the room when he didn't stand with his party. Bingley, on the other hand, didn't miss a set. As the fourth played out on the floor, two giggling girls rushed by Darcy and stopped not far from him when they joined an older woman. Standing near the edge of the dance area, he was close enough to overhear their conversation.

"Oh, look at Mr. Bingley, girls!" the matron exclaimed.

"Mamma, he is dancing with Maria Lucas. Why would that excite us?" the one who appeared youngest, though the tallest, asked with a whine in her voice. "I would much rather talk about what we just heard."

In his peripheral vision, Darcy saw her grab the girls' hands. "Oh, you don't understand. Mr. Bingley has asked Jane to dance another with him! It will be their second of the night! We're saved. I knew my Jane couldn't be so beautiful for nothing."

Inwardly, Darcy shook his head at how fast dancing led to matrimony in the eyes of some, but a few key words also caused him to listen more attentively. Elizabeth had written about her sister Jane, who had the kindest disposition of anyone she had ever met.

 _We're saved._ The words reverberated through his mind. Their situation was about more than connections and status.

"But, Mamma," the girl whined again. Then, her expression turned to barely contained excitement. "Kitty and I just heard the best news! A militia regiment is to be stationed here for the winter. Oh, I cannot wait to see dashing young men in red coats."

An almost childlike, dreamy countenance appeared on her face, and Darcy realized there was a combination of innocence and ignorance within her. Left uncheck it could be dangerous, considering the information they had received. His thoughts turned to the other girl, and he noticed that every time she began to speak, the other spoke over her and she just naturally fell silent. Was she the other half of "The Troublesome Two" as Elizabeth had named them? Were they Lydia and Catherine? It would appear so.

They moved away, presumably to share their news, and Darcy remained where he was. His thoughts turned to the mystery woman's eyes when their gazes had locked for that brief moment. Where was she? Oh, he knew she was there, but he couldn't seem to find her and someone to introduce them at the same time. It was frustrating, to say the least.

During the respite between the fourth and fifth set, Bingley came over with a jovial smile. "Come on, Darcy. I must have you dance. My partner can introduce you to her sister."

"Let me be, Bingley. The only woman who could tempt me into dancing seems to disappear into the shadows, and you've danced with the only other beautiful woman in the room." Again, Darcy realized too late that it could be taken as a slight to Miss Bingley. Fortunately, Bingley didn't see it that way. "Besides, I've already had the pleasure of meeting Miss Charlotte Lucas, as you should know since you were there."

The younger man frowned in confusion, but then realization seemed to dawn and his smile returned. "Yes, she is the most beautiful creature in the room, and her sister is also lovely. Come, you must dance. Her sister is sitting behind you."

During one of his earlier walks around the room, he had heard a woman—that he now realized was most likely Mrs. Bennet—say that it was unfortunate that the Lucas girls were not more handsome. Though he did not want to be unkind, he would not describe Charlotte Lucas as lovely. Bingley was being kind in saying so.

"You are wasting your time with me," Darcy replied. Using his height, he once again searched the faces in hope of finding the one he was looking for. It had been a while since he had last seen her. Bingley did not give up, again imploring him to dance, and Darcy turned fully towards his friend. "She's tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me. I'm in no humor to dance with young ladies slighted by other men."

Bingley's brows lifted slightly, but the fact that his gaze shifted to somewhere behind him was more concerning. Turning around, Darcy saw the men who had stood between him and the table had left at an uncertain point. The person who was sitting there was at once a welcome and unpleasant surprise. Standing up, the woman he had been looking for curtsied before walking hurriedly away from him.

 _No, this cannot be happening._ Before he had a chance to think twice about it, he took off after her.

"But I thought—" Bingley began, but he didn't give him the time to finish what was on his mind.

He had to stop her. He had to speak with her. If no one was around to properly introduce them, so be it. He had already received a letter from her. What was one more breach in propriety?

She tried to cut across the corner of the dance area, but the next set was about to begin and Darcy had to think quickly. He grabbed her hand, and as she turned around to free it, he let go and bowed perfectly in line with the other dancers. Her eyes widened and she looked down the line of dancers. Her only option was to curtsy in return or cause a scene. He felt a little guilty, but he could let it go considering she would finally be in one place for half an hour.

Her eyes were narrowed as she curtsied while keeping his gaze. Her back was so straight that one would think it was her presentation at Court. As the dance began and they stepped toward each other, Darcy quickly said, "I did not mean you."

"I would not be telling the truth were I to say that is news to me. I must say, however, that you slighting a dear friend is just another on your list of offences this evening," she rapidly responded.

"Offences? I'm afraid that I do not understand," he said the next time they drew near to each other. The line of dancers moved to the right, the gentlemen holding the ladies' hands while keeping the other behind their backs.

"You've barely spoken a few words all evening, and you clearly consider yourself superior to present company. And what you think of as slighted by others is in all truthfulness consideration towards the other ladies. If you've not noticed, Mr. Darcy, the gentlemen are fewer than the ladies present."

 _She knows who I am_. He felt like a foolish young lad at the thought. Thanks to Miss Bingley, no one could've missed their arrival or the resulting ripple effect of whispers. And the woman he was dancing with did not seem impressed. He glanced at her, finding it more than a little troubling that she might not like him.

They turned and moved away from each other. "Is that all that you hold against me?" he asked as soon as he was able to.

"I'm sure more will come to me as I recount the night tomorrow."

His reaction took him by surprise. So much of the personality he had seen in the letter was in that sentence, and he couldn't prevent the corners of his mouth from turning up, though he did his best to contain it. He looked toward her and could see she was surprised. "Of course, this dance and the manner of which it came about will be added," he replied. Darcy found he immensely liked crossing verbal swords with her. Though not officially introduced, he knew who she was. All the pieces fit.

His response had seemingly robbed her of her words. Her mouth opened and closed, and then her brow furrowed in perplexity. "Of course. Have you nothing to say in your defense, though?"

They came to the bottom of the line, and he stood facing her as they waited to rejoin the dance. "The explanation at length will have to wait for a more suitable time, but I will say that I did not intent injury to anyone. I am not naturally inclined towards comfort in social situations outside of that of my immediate family and friends. Dancing has never been a great preference of mine, and I will admit to not considering the imbalance tonight. As for the slight, I apologize, for I should not have spoken so carelessly. Had she overheard, my error would've been even worse, for my words had been aimed at discouraging a friend."

She examined him with her eyes. Truthfully, they were perhaps standing a bit too close to each other, but Darcy noted that she did not move away. Before they drew too much attention, the time came to resume the dance and the dancers moved around each other. She appeared to be in deep thought, and eventually she nodded. He could see her expression clear up, and amusement induced a smile from her. "I can't say I've ever experienced a dance quite like this one. Not only was I not introduced nor asked, but your elevated status is sure to give me consequence."

A barely contained smile still managed to affect his mouth. He decided to take a calculated chance. "Are you making fun of me, Miss Bennet?"

"Oh dear, you do not like to be teased, and I so dearly love to laugh." Her eyes sparkled as though they were especially made to capture the light, hidden within them the signs of an intelligent mind that was contemplating what had occurred. "And it would seem that we do not need an introduction after all. Though, for the sake of what is left of propriety, my sister should still do the honors."

"I do not often experience the occasion to laugh, but I find the ability has not fallen out of practice." He wanted to hear her name, wanted his thoughts confirmed out her mouth. "And when your older sister is present, what am I to call you, then?"

"It is not often that one has to introduce themselves." As the dance came to an end, he bowed and she didn't move away after returning the gesture with a curtsy. She stared into his eyes unwaveringly as she continued. "I am Elizabeth Bennet."

He'd been expecting it, but the words still affected his heart rate. He bowed again, eyes leaving hers for the briefest of moments. "It is my greatest privilege to meet you, Miss Elizabeth."

 _Finally_ , he added internally.

* * *

 **AN: So the well-known event still happened, but with a twist. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! :) The opinion leaned towards updating when possible, so I'll post when I'm able to. Thank you so much for every review, favorite and alert! It means so much to me.**


	4. Chapter 4

**The Letter**

 **Chapter 4**

"Miss Elizabeth, may I have the honor of your hand for the second dance of this set?" Darcy stared into her eyes, completely captivated by the intricacy of shades of brown and gold flowing together in the color of her gaze. He never realized before how much could be revealed in someone's eyes, and he found himself wondering what they looked like in the light of day.

"I'm almost disappointed that you asked, Mr. Darcy." With eyes filled with amusement, she curtsied.

"Am I to understand that you assent?" he inquired, hoping she was only teasing. It would be difficult if she preferred not to dance again, and he prepared himself to hear one of the two acceptable excuses. Though, he would not be surprised if she found an imaginative way of giving a third.

"Yes, and I thank you for asking." A smile lit up her face. Oh, he perfectly caught her meaning, but he found himself not minding being the recipient of her wit.

Darcy appreciated every moment of her company, and he came to a realization at the end of the dance—it was different. He had never given the gesture much thought, but as he held his arm for Elizabeth to take, it felt different. Though it sounded prideful, he had never entered a space and felt as if he had to earn to be there. He had never escorted a young lady and felt that he wanted to earn her esteem. Yet, it was exactly that awareness that hit him as she took his arm—he not only _wanted_ to be by her side, he also knew he would have to earn it.

His thoughts wandered to her first impression of him, wondering if he would be given the chance to be known as he felt like he knew her. As if she heard his thoughts, Elizabeth suddenly halted their progress in the direction of her sister and his friend.

"Mr. Darcy?"

He turned to her, but not so much that he had to let go of her arm. "Yes, Miss Elizabeth?"

She stared up at him with a pensive expression. "If I may be so bold, are you planning on dancing again tonight?"

He didn't answer immediately. First, he wondered if she was letting him know that she would be inclined to dance another set. Then, he realized with disappointment that her inquiry was more likely due to the fact that others were still without partners. He briefly wondered what her reaction would be if he said he had been waiting to dance with her, though he did not want her to think that he said it only to charm her.

"I had not planned on dancing with a variety of partners," he began, staring into her eyes. "But if it would help my cause to show that I regret my actions regarding your friend, then yes, I will dance with someone else as well."

She tilted her head slightly to the side, which was to her advantage as her brown curls framed her face. "Why do I feel like there is much unsaid in that response?"

A small smile appeared on his face as he witnessed her observation skills. "You are not wrong."

She answered with a smile of her own. "And is the hidden meaning to remain disguised?"

"I'm hoping you already know," he replied, his tone bereft of levity and low enough so that only she could hear.

With cheeks lightly colored, her voice was equally soft as she responded. "You're hoping to dance for a second time with someone."

"Yes."

She stared at him but didn't comment immediately. Then, she said with an undiscernible expression, "I'm sure Miss Bingley will be pleased."

At once, he felt surprised at the turn in the conversation and also worried that there was a hidden query in the statement. Before he could respond and assure her, in a gentlemanlike manner, that he had no designs regarding Miss Bingley, Bingley and Miss Bennet joined them.

"There you are, Darcy. I'm glad to see you were able to correct the … uh, lapse in consideration." Glancing at Miss Bennet, Bingley smiled at him in a way that said he was trying to make a good impression and Darcy had not helped.

With an eyebrow slightly raised, Elizabeth looked up at Darcy while speaking to his friend. "Lapse in consideration. I commend your word choice regarding such a delicate matter, for I must admit that other words crossed my mind."

Darcy felt an invisible band constricting around his heart. His good opinion once lost was lost forever, and he feared that he might not be able to redeem himself completely in her sight. "Dare I ask?" he quietly questioned, keeping his gaze on her.

A small smile from her showed him mercy. "They are currently being reassessed, and I would not want to sketch a character when it is like a painting revealing itself to the artist, becoming what the painter could not see in the first strokes."

The relief he felt was greater than even he thought it would be, and Darcy returned her smile with gratitude. She nodded slightly, and he turned to his friend. "Bingley, if you would be so kind, please ask your partner to introduce me to Miss Elizabeth."

"Pardon?" Eyes wide with surprise, the word left Miss Bennet's lips before she could prevent it, causing her to stutter an apology with tinted cheeks. If anything, it caused Bingley to look at her with even greater interest.

As a laugh escaped Elizabeth, she quickly pressed the fingers of her other hand against her mouth. Darcy stared at her with fascination, wanting to hear her laugh again, thus nearly missing it as Miss Bennet conveyed with a gaze at her sister that she wanted to hear the story at a later point; their situation was rather unusual.

Composing herself, Miss Bennet smiled. "Mr. Darcy, this is my sister Elizabeth. Lizzy, this is Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Derbyshire."

 _Lizzy_. The thought that he had guessed right warmed him, and he bowed slightly without letting go of her arm, which she returned with a small curtsy. Still, she was Elizabeth to him.

At that moment, Miss Bingley and the Hursts joined them, though they did not completely shatter the connection that Darcy felt with Elizabeth. His thoughts were centered on her, even as he looked away to the new additions to their group.

"I was surprised to see you dancing, Mr. Darcy." Miss Bingley stepped closer to him, as though she had come to his rescue by arriving at that moment. Looking pointedly at Elizabeth, she smirked contemptuously. "Mr. Darcy does not usually dance with ladies outside of his acquaintance."

There were few times, if any, that Mr. Darcy felt gratitude towards Miss Bingley. This moment would be one as she unknowingly helped him. Oh, he knew she had meant to imply there was something between the two of them, but it also verified what he had told Elizabeth and hopefully showed her that she was different for him.

He noticed the thoughtful expression on Elizabeth's face, and as he glanced at Miss Bingley, he saw a flash of irritation as she looked at Elizabeth's hand on his arm. Miss Bingley did not move away, and he knew that she expected him to let go of Elizabeth, considering her sister was also present, and ask her for another dance. When he didn't, she turned to her brother.

"Really, Charles, if you're parched, then you should go find refreshments. Opening and closing your mouth will not help," Miss Bingley snapped at him.

Darcy could see that Bingley had been studying him as well as his interaction with Elizabeth.

"I'm not—" Bingley stopped and looked from him to Elizabeth, and Darcy could see the moment that he decided it was best not to elaborate on what had caused his distraction. His look at Darcy strongly suggested that he should feel gratitude that the younger man was loyal—it most likely saved them from an earful during the carriage ride when they returned to Netherfield. Then, Bingley's expression returned to all that was amiable. Nonetheless, Darcy had no doubt that he did not appreciate the way Miss Bingley had spoken to him, in front of Miss Bennet no less.

"You're not, what?" she asked her brother.

 _Perhaps she should return to finishing school. She does not appear to have succeeded the first time,_ Darcy thought. Then, he admonished himself. He needed to rein in his thoughts about Miss Bingley, even if she did not make it easy. The woman was like a horse trampling a flowerbed—forbearance struggled to survive and what was left was less than ideal.

At that moment, Mrs. Bennet and her two youngest joined them, with her third daughter trailing a bit behind. "Oh, Mr. Bingley, how lovely you and my Jane looked during your dance. Even this poor lighting is most becoming with her beauty, do you not agree?"

Their arrival caused Bingley and Miss Bennet to turn around, so not to have their backs to them, and Miss Bingley had no choice but to make room for the couple between her and Darcy. The change in position placed her nearly across from him, and her countenance visibly portrayed her dissatisfaction.

Bingley appeared a little flushed and he glanced at Miss Bennet. "Yes, I would have to agree."

As Darcy looked at the younger Bennet girls, he couldn't help but think that they should join Miss Bingley at a school; it would give them time to mature away from the regiment and social gatherings. As he had learned with his own sister, one had to be vigilant regarding the safety of young women.

Darcy broke from his reverie when he was introduced to the rest of the Bennets, and strangely, Mrs. Bennet's attention remained on Bingley. This was not a development that Darcy was used to, and he wondered if his offence of not dancing had been greater than he realized. It reminded him that Elizabeth had an unfavorable impression that was under revision.

The comprehension also came that if Mrs. Bennet's sole mission was matrimonial advantage, then surely she would be exclaiming Elizabeth's virtues to him rather than Miss Bennet's to Bingley. Being overlooked had its merits, though—he wasn't very comfortable in social situations, and he appreciated that Mrs. Bennet's attention was not directed at him. And he wanted to keep it that way. Unexpectedly, it was Miss Bingley who assisted him in the endeavor, even if it was unknowingly.

As Bingley turned to Miss Mary Bennet, presumably to ask her hand for the next dance—unable to ask Miss Bennet for another— Miss Bingley suddenly fainted. Apparently, she had decided it was time for their party to leave. She must've been desperate if she was willing to risk falling on those floors. She most likely hoped that Darcy would catch her, but she'd miscalculated and Bingley was closest. He caught her with quick reflexes, which caused the younger Bennet girls to appear as though they were also about to swoon. If the blush on Miss Bennet's cheeks revealed anything, she also appreciated the gallant sight.

Mrs. Hurst gracefully waved a delicate handkerchief in front of Miss Bingley's face. "Oh, my dear sister. She has not been feeling well. We simply must get her home immediately."

Unfortunately for Miss Bingley, she had underestimated Mrs. Bennet. Seeking Bingley's favor, all of the older woman's attentiveness shifted to looking after his sister. "There is a room we can use for her recovery, if you will follow me."

Bingley thanked her profusely and went with her, along with Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bennet who followed. With her position against her brother's shoulder, Darcy was sure he saw Miss Bingley opening one eye and looking around. As she found him and saw he was watching, she quickly closed her eye again.

When they disappeared from sight, Darcy turned to Elizabeth. "May I have the pleasure of dancing a second set with you?"

There was a pause as she looked at him, and he hoped that she realized that this was also his response to her earlier statement—he was not courting Miss Bingley nor was he planning to. Though, the fact that Elizabeth took her into consideration only raised her character in his eyes.

"You may." She paused, appearing to weigh her words. "I hope Miss Bingley recovers soon."

"I'm sure she already has," he responded, glancing in the direction they went.

Elizabeth's thoughts were hidden behind a neutral mask. "Yes, I'm sure you are correct."

He held his arm toward her. "Shall we?"

Placing her hand on his arm, they walked to the dance floor and she said just loud enough for him to hear, "I thank you for asking."

It took great effort to contain his smile that wanted to burst forth, preferring to keep his emotions private in front of all the eyes around them. As he glanced at her, he saw her gazing at him and they shared a look. He had never met anyone like her, and he did not want to prevent the danger that he was in.

* * *

 **AN: I hope you enjoyed the chapter! And thank you for your patience. :) I'll be uploading a Pride & Prejudice Modern AU one-shot soon, so keep an eye out for that if you're interested. Thank you for every review, favorite and alert! I truly appreciate it. **


	5. Chapter 5

**The Letter**

 **Chapter 5**

Miss Bingley complained the whole way to Netherfield. The woman had the ability to make a fine carriage feel smaller than a packed post-chaise.

"And she would not let me up for an hour! An hour!" she cried. "She kept insisting that I need my rest."

"I dare say you haven't received better care prior in your life, Caroline," her brother responded.

"Better care? I was confined under the guise of neighborly affection!" she said dramatically. "You were too enthralled by Miss Bennet to notice your own sister. It was appalling, Charles."

As she continued like a runaway horse, Darcy observed Bingley rubbing his temple, and he wondered if the time was finally nearing where his friend would talk to his sister. He hadn't said anything to Bingley regarding Miss Bingley for two reasons—the first, it was not his place unless her advances toward him escalated, and secondly, he felt in no position to give advice about sisters after what had happened in Ramsgate.

Darcy stared out through the window into the night, and he realized, perhaps for the first time, that the incident with Georgiana had shaken his confidence in his choices. _He_ had hired Mrs. Younge. _He_ had listened when the conniving woman had suggested that some time in Ramsgate would be good for his sister. He suddenly realized that the impact could've gone in two very different directions—it could have caused him to place the importance of his own successful marriage in the eyes of the Ton first, ensuring a future for Georgiana were the event ever discovered; or, it could've made him question if he truly knew the best path to future felicity—if he wanted a marriage where his fortune was considered first and foremost, like Wickham had only thought of Georgiana's dowry. The latter had stepped forward as the conqueror. He treasured his family, and duty had taken a step back for heart. He didn't want a loveless marriage for his sister, and he didn't want it for himself, either.

"Tell me, Mr. Darcy," Miss Bingley said, interrupting his thoughts. He nearly groaned as her attention shifted to him, and her teasing smile betrayed resentment underneath. "What does a country miss possess that could induce you into dancing two sets with her?"

"I also danced with Miss Lucas," he responded, looking at Miss Bingley. "And I must admit that I'm curious as to how you know about the second set."

Glancing down and adjusting the lock of hair over her shoulder, Miss Bingley tried very hard to appear indifferent as she responded. "I believe Mr. Hurst told Louisa, who then informed me."

 _Informed is definitely the right word,_ Darcy thought as the feeling of being hunted returned. He glanced at Mr. Hurst, wondering what he noticed or overheard while people assumed he was sleeping or forgot about his presence, like Darcy had when he asked Elizabeth for a second set. At least, on the occasion when it suited Mr. Hurst to pretend to be asleep—in order to avoid certain people—or he wasn't distracted by a game of cards.

"And you did dance with the weathered flower, but only after four dances with Miss Eliza Bennet, who has no extraordinary beauty to commend her."

"Caroline!" Bingley exclaimed. "Where are your manners? You cannot speak of Miss Lucas in that way."

She shrugged. "It is the truth, is it not? She is certainly not a bright blossom in spring." She smiled haughtily. "No, I'm afraid she is rather in the autumn season nearing winter as far as marriageable age is concerned. If she's not already there, that is."

 _And you're not?_ Darcy thought. Not only was Miss Bingley advancing in years without a proposal—a proposal she considered worthy, at least—but her character tipped an eligibility scale to the wrong side faster than age ever could.

"'Extraordinary beauty' is a matter of opinion, Miss Bingley. A pair of fine eyes certainly has a role in determining mine." Darcy stared at her with an irritated expression, and he couldn't help but to add one more statement. "I would say pleasant manners are certainly also a factor to consider."

Miss Bingley looked at him, and it was visible that she was without words.

Bingley decided to take advantage of this fact and added his own thoughts on the matter. "I had heard that the Bennet girls are the handsomest in the neighborhood, and I looked forward to meeting them. Their reputation did not disappoint."

 _Their reputation._ Darcy turned the words over in his mind. The letter had caused him to prepare for more than he had witnessed that night, though admittedly he had been distracted. Some of the details in the letter had led him to believe that she hoped to meet the gentleman before her family did. The picture simply had not unfolded at once as he had expected.

Later that night, by the light of a candelabrum in his room, Darcy sat in front of his personal writing box with one of the secret compartments open. In his hand he held Elizabeth's letter, and he compared the evening with the contents as he perused it. Finally, he sat back and turned his gaze to the blank parchment on the surface of the writing box.

His thoughts wandered to Georgiana and whether his decisions since the incident had been selfish. Was it best for her if he placed heart before duty? Was it not duty that could ensure her protection? He could see but one path before him to guard the future he hoped for.

Setting the quill on the page, he began to write.

 _Richard,_

 _Do not be alarmed, but it has come to my attention that the matters of last spring have not been sufficiently dealt with. Fear not, for this letter has no bearing on those who were affected, nor has anything of an alarming nature occurred. For it to remain so, I need your help to find Wickham._

~P&P~

The silence in Longbourn came to an abrupt end as the Bennets poured through the doorway, voices speaking over each other as they recalled details of the evening. Lydia was excited about the prospect of red coats in Meryton, and Mrs. Bennet was in raptures over the success Jane had with Mr. Bingley. After burdening Mr. Hill with their cloaks as well, Elizabeth and Jane followed their father, mother and sisters at a more sedate pace into the drawing room, though no less excited. The two shared a smile, their cheeks glowing pink as they thought about the evening.

There had been anticipation regarding meeting Mr. Bingley, but Elizabeth had not given his guests more thought beyond the neighborhood rumors. She'd looked forward to meeting the Netherfield party and any diversion they might provide, yet she had not expected to meet a man that was possibly capable of awakening her affections. With that thought, Elizabeth looked down at the hem of her gown as she experienced a fluttering sensation over her heart and in her stomach. Never before had she felt anything like the moments she'd shared with Mr. Darcy. Leaning against the doorframe, she crossed her arms over the high waistline of her gown.

"Oh, Mr. Bennet, Mr. Bingley is everything we hoped he would be! It won't be long before our Jane is the new mistress of Netherfield," Mrs. Bennet said, sitting down in front of the fire.

"Everything _we_ hoped? I had no idea we had specific designs for the young man," he responded, taking his seat across from her.

"Must you tease me so, Mr. Bennet? Being the excellent father that you are, you did call on him with our girls in mind."

"Yes, and as I recall, I did say that perhaps I ought to put a good word in for Lizzy. But seeing as how things have turned out, I do think it best that I neglected to mention them more than what is expected."

"Mr. Bennet! Have you no compassion for my nerves?" Mrs. Bennet continued without waiting for her husband's reply. "The ladies of Netherfield were dressed very fashionably, I must say. The quality was very fine, which I saw closer than anyone else when I ensured that Miss Bingley did not rip a hem when she fainted. Miss Bingley naturally recovered quickly with my care, but I made sure she had proper rest. I told her she should not get up too quickly or she might faint again. I could see Mr. Bingley appreciated it very much, and I would not be surprised if we received an invitation to dine at Netherfield."

A broad smile appeared on Lydia's face, and she rushed to sit at her mother's feet. "Oh, do you truly think so, Mamma?"

Mrs. Bennet patted her hand. "Yes, I do, sweet girl." The older woman looked up at the other occupants of the room. "Of course, we'll have to suffer through the evening with that dreadful Mr. Darcy's company, but we will endure."

"Mamma!" Elizabeth exclaimed, eyes widening as she took a step closer.

"I do not understand why you are outraged, Lizzy. Mrs. Long told me she overheard when he slighted you." Mrs. Bennet huffed and looked at her husband. "No daughter of mine is 'not handsome enough to tempt me.' That unpleasant, arrogant man insulted our daughter and the whole neighborhood is sure to know of it soon."

Elizabeth's hand lowered to her side, her mouth opening without a sound at the unexpected news. She had not realized that someone else had overheard him, and the story would spread quickly. She wanted to cover her face with her hands due to embarrassment, for she could not reveal all that had transpired.

Before she could say anything, however, her mother spoke to her. "I truly do not understand why you even danced with the man, Lizzy; you could've said you were still recovering after dancing the first few sets. But if you did it for Jane, Mr. Bingley being a good friend of his, then I must commend you for putting your sister above your vanity."

Elizabeth's legs carried her closer to her mother of their own volition. "No, it was all a terrible misundersta—"

"Not once!" Lydia interrupted. The smile on her face said how much she enjoyed sharing news with someone who had not heard a particular detail. "She danced _two_ sets with him, and she did not appear reluctant. No, not at all, I would say."

"What?" Mrs. Bennet looked bewildered. "When did this happen?"

"While you were attending to Miss Bingley, Mamma," Lydia answered with a self-satisfied expression on her face.

"Lizzy?" Her mother looked questioningly at her.

"As I was saying, it was a misunderstanding. He apologized." Her hands twisted nervously before she stilled them. She would not reveal that he hadn't been speaking about her. Oh, the terror at the mere thought.

"Twice! Why am I only hearing of this now?" Mrs. Bennet cried. She suddenly stood, sat back down, before standing again. Then, she began pacing back and forth. "Ten thousand a year. Of course, we can forgive him. The man did apologize, and we are not to hold it against him. A man of his high status must have elevated opinions and also the right to change his mind, which he clearly did. And we could not hold it against him if he had trouble with sight, since the lighting was poor. Such an error could happen to anyone really."

"So did he change his mind or are we to blame the light?" Mr. Bennet asked.

"Mr. Bennet, please!" his wife cried. "We are not to hold it against him. Think of your daughters. Think of their future happiness and welfare."

"Just as I was set to disapprove of the man," Mr. Bennet drily commented.

Mrs. Bennet only gave him a look in return, and then she walked over to her second eldest daughter. "Ten thousand a year. Oh, Lizzy, my dear girl. You have truly saved us."

Elizabeth felt uncomfortable. "Mamma, we only danced." And shared something she had not felt before, but that thought would remain within her.

"He did not dance _two_ sets with anyone else. He scarcely danced with anyone at all." Her mother took her hands in her own. "Except with you, dear Lizzy," she said emotionally with tears glistening in her eyes.

Gathering herself, Mrs. Bennet turned to her other daughters. "Off to bed, all of you. We must be ready if they decide to call on us tomorrow or if an invite arrives. Lizzy, I will first help with your hair before you go bed."

"That's not necessary," she hurriedly replied, still processing her mother's reaction. She knew her mother was under strain, especially as the summers past and their father aged. Regardless, she did not want the pressure of her mother's hope on her, especially as the gossip about the slight also spread. The conflicting stories were sure to be considered tantalizing.

"Of course, it is. Now come. Sleeplessness does not aide beauty," Mrs. Bennet replied. She herded them up the stairs like a proficient shepherdess. She did not run out of good things to say about Mr. Darcy, and her voice was still heard after leaving Elizabeth and retiring to her own chamber.

After all had gone to bed, Elizabeth sat at the small table in front of her window. The candle light flickered softly across her features. Her hand hovered over the blank page before her, contemplating whether or not to set her thoughts into words. Over the years, she had often done it, but this night felt different. For the first time, she could picture a face instead of a blurry image for the recipient.

At the back of her wardrobe, hidden under old ribbons and odd pieces of fabric, was a small lockbox containing letters to someone she had not met before. Though she had unfortunately misplaced the letter that began the habit at Netherfield many years ago, she had continued to write as it became an outlet point if a long walk did not clear her thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, Lizzy bit her lower lip and set the quill pen to the page.

 _Dear future husband,_

 _My mother is of the opinion that I met you tonight, and for what may be the first time, I think my heart could be in agreement with her. …_

* * *

 **AN: Thank you so much for your patience! I really hope that you enjoyed this chapter. I couldn't wait to write it, especially the end. :) I'm still astounded by the reaction to this story, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. Thank you very much for every review, favorite and alert.**


	6. Chapter 6

**The Letter**

 **Chapter 6**

It was dreadful. The scene unfolding before Elizabeth was like watching a carriage accident—it was awful, but she couldn't bring herself to look away, either. They had received callers as soon as it was an acceptable hour, though it was only the Lucases joining them for the discussion about the previous evening.

Mrs. Bennet had visibly wilted when the carriage was identified before lifting her head like a flower reaching for the sun, redirecting her anticipation toward analyzing the previous evening; it was not an everyday occurrence for her to be able to boast about her daughters' marriage prospects. Oh no, this was a moment to savor. She'd arranged her daughters and their gowns perfectly, and Lydia and Kitty stopped twitching with one glance from the matriarch of Longbourn. With their soon to be connection to the Darcy and Bingley families in mind, Mrs. Bennet received the Lucases with an air of self-importance.

Elizabeth watched all of this transpire with an eye that knew her family well, and she inwardly braced herself for what was sure to unfold. And she was not mistaken, even as she dearly wished that she could've been proven wrong.

Mrs. Bennet considered Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley spoken for, and she completely dominated the conversation, with Mr. Darcy being her favorite topic. When Lady Lucas said that she'd heard that he had slighted Lizzy, Mrs. Bennet was quick to correct her.

Her mother laughed and waved her hand as if to say that this tidbit was inconsequential. "If that were his opinion, my Lady, why would a man of such great consequence dance four dances with her? No, I can assure you, that is not the case. He was even kind enough to apologize for the misunderstanding." Her mother's countenance said the rest—the facts could not be dismissed.

Elizabeth was thankful that her mother didn't know who he was truly talking about; her mother did not have the social grace to realize that some information should not be shared.

As she dealt with emotions stirred at the thought of the possible ramifications of Mr. Darcy's words, she reminded herself of what had been his true motivation. Then, the atmosphere in the room shifted as her mother simply had to continue. Desperately wishing her mother would stop speaking but unable to, Elizabeth witnessed with dread as she spoke and knew that there would be consequences.

Lifting a cup of tea, Mrs. Bennet took a small sip before lowering her hand. "Besides, I didn't see him dancing two sets with anyone else. I would say that says it all really."

"He also danced with my Charlotte, and it was the last of the evening," Lady Lucas responded, lifting her chin slightly.

It did nothing to deter Mrs. Bennet. "Yes, but only once. And when you think about it, the _Boulanger_ is not high on the list of significance."

"And is the greatest implication reserved for two sets?" Lady Lucas replied, visibly offended. There was no greater battle in society than mothers protecting their unmarried daughter's position where an eligible gentleman was concerned.

"Of course not," Mrs. Bennet replied as though Lady Lucas should know these things, but she was also delighted to inform her. "The first is understandably reserved for two sets, one of which is the opening set and the other the supper set. The second is any other set but must also include the supper set. The third is the first two sets. The fourth is the opening set and any other set. The fifth is simply two sets. The sixth is if only the opening set is danced. The last set is the seventh, and the eighth is any other set. Lastly, but still worth the mention—depending on the consequence of the gentleman—is one dance. The last, however, relates more to the Season."

Mrs. Bennet took a deep breath, lifting her cup of tea with a satisfied countenance. Then, she continued with an air of superiority not that far removed from its likeness to Miss Bingley. "Considering when Mr. Darcy danced, as well as the amount of dances with one lady, his dances with Lizzy moves up to the first position."

Lady Lucas pursed her lips. "Thus, by your own acknowledgment, Miss Bingley is a contender. He may not have danced the opening set, but his first dance of the evening had been with the lady evidently used to high society."

The suggestion could not be missed—Lady Lucas thought Miss Bingley's status, especially as the sister of Mr. Darcy's friend, moved her to equal, if not superior, ground. Mrs. Bennet gasped in indignation, while Elizabeth felt the desperate desire to flee from the room to the escape that nature beckoned with outside.

"Miss Bingley?!" Mrs. Bennet shook her head, dismissing the opinion of the other woman. "She clearly does not have a strong enough constitution to give Mr. Darcy the heir that he needs. I could see that she needed an hour to recover after she fainted. No, I'm sure Mr. Darcy already knows that she is not suitable and is not considering her. My Lizzy, on the other hand, is always strolling about. Anyone can see she is healthy."

Never before had the desire to disappear been so strong for Elizabeth, especially as Lady Lucas looked at her before turning back to Mrs. Bennet. Even for her mother, Elizabeth struggled to process what she'd said and the indelicacy of it all. She knew marriage was linked with expectations, but for her mother to address it in such a manner left her feeling deeply embarrassed. It felt as though they were one wrong comment away from tempers flaring, resulting in a heated discussion about who would be best for carrying an heir—her or Charlotte. And all of this with both of them sitting there.

"My Charlotte is not to be ruled out," Lady Lucas said with her chin lifted, her countenance bearing a satisfied smile. "From what Mrs. Long overheard, Mr. Darcy considered _my_ daughters the most beautiful in the room. He had to be speaking of Charlotte, for he danced with no one else of interest."

Mrs. Bennet's face appeared as though she'd been working in the kitchen over a boiling pot. "Except for the _two_ sets with Lizzy, of course! It is common knowledge that my girls are the prettiest in Hertfordshire, and Lizzy is only second to Jane."

While Lydia seemed ready to protest, she was not given the chance as Lady Lucas quickly responded. "Yes, but we are speaking of Mr. Darcy's perception, not the general opinion of the neighborhood. He saw that she had overheard his conversation with Mr. Bingley. As a gentleman, it is only natural that he would make restitution."

"Restitution!" Mrs. Bennet cried. "Well, I dare say that the future will reveal the truth."

At that moment, Elizabeth would've crawled out of the room to avoid detection, if only it wouldn't be considered undignified. She desperately needed to get away from there. It was a disaster. Not only was the slight part of the neighborhood gossip, but Charlotte was rather quiet as the scene unfolded. She might secretly hope that she, Elizabeth, would not encourage the gentleman and give her the chance.

With great trepidation, Elizabeth turned to her friend and managed to whisper the words, her throat feeling constricted. "Charlotte … do you like him?"

Her friend looked at her and her smile appeared almost sad. "He did not speak much, and whether I like him hardly matters. Mr. Darcy could not keep his eyes off you, and it would be to your great advantage to make such a match."

"You know that monetary advantage will not move me," she replied softly as their mothers continued their fervent discussion.

Charlotte tilted her head slightly to the side. "You must be realistic, Lizzy. Finding love in marriage is a matter of chance. Can you honestly say that you would turn him down were he to ask for your hand?"

She paused as she considered the question. With Charlotte being older, Elizabeth knew that there were added contributions to her view. Could she in clear conscience turn him away? The way he had looked at her came into remembrance. He had caused her to feel what she had never experienced before. She'd always thought Lydia and Kitty silly for blushing at the glance of a gentleman, perhaps they were, yet that was how he'd made her feel—she'd been intensely aware of him. Nevertheless, the emotion was still too new to be shared.

Looking up at Charlotte, she said, "It would depend on the timing. Were he to ask me this very moment, I would not turn him down, but I would not say agree, either. I would ask for time to get to know him."

"It is difficult to get to know someone in half an hour here and there. You must admit that, Lizzy."

Elizabeth smiled. "True as that may be, I'm still hoping to marry for love." Glancing at their mothers, she continued. "If the poor man knows how his every movement is being watched for meaning, he would close himself off in his estate and never set foot in society again."

"Poor he is certainly not," Charlotte replied softly so as not to attract the attention of their mothers. "My father heard it on good authority that half of Derbyshire belongs to Mr. Darcy."

"H-Half?"

"And he has a house in town. There is talk of other properties as well."

Elizabeth felt a heavy weight burden her shoulders as the reality of their differences broke through. Looking at the flushed countenance of her mother, her younger sisters giggling by the window with Maria Lucas while Mary missed another note on the pianoforte, a hollow feeling settled in her stomach. She had always prided herself on not having her head in the clouds, and it was too much to hope for that the evening could have been so significant. That could only mean that whatever connection there had been would be denied fruition—nothing could come of it.

Hoping that Charlotte hadn't noticed how the information affected her, Elizabeth forced a smile and lifted an eyebrow. "Well, then, he has room to spare for the unmarried men when they finally decide to run from all the mothers."

~P&P~

Mrs. Bennet was not to be underestimated. When the Bingley's did not call on them, nor did they call during the following days, Mrs. Bennet arranged for the carriage and the six Bennet ladies set off to call at Netherfield. To their disappointment, the gentlemen were not present upon their arrival, though Elizabeth felt relieved at the same time. A part of her still longed to see Mr. Darcy again, but she knew that she could not allow hope to grow.

Fortunately, Miss Bingley was a good distraction, for her countenance was a sight to behold as Lydia behaved as though they were the dearest of friends. In all truthfulness, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst had only taken a liking to Jane and that much was clear to Elizabeth. Nonetheless, she caught Miss Bingley staring at her more than once, and she couldn't help but wonder if dancing with Mr. Darcy was the reason.

Not long before the end of the visit, the gentlemen arrived and along with them a warm Miss Bingley. As Elizabeth wondered about the change, not that the other woman had been outright rude before—more a case of barely veiled condescending looks—it was also plain to see how much Mr. Bingley enjoyed seeing Jane. Elizabeth's gaze, however, was suddenly caught by the taller gentleman who entered behind him. For others it might not have been noticeable, but she saw the softening edges of his features as he looked at her.

"Are you well, Miss Elizabeth?" he asked after the gentlemen had bowed and the ladies curtsied.

"Yes, thank you," she said softly, unable to look away. "I trust you are as well?"

He held his hands behind his back. "Yes, thank you."

"Mr. Darcy, it is so great to see you again!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed with her smile filled with expectation. "We've been hoping to see you again. And Mr. Bingley, of course."

 _Say no more, please,_ Elizabeth thought as mortification climbed like a vine around her heart and up to her face.

"The delay is due to me, I'm afraid," Bingley said, smiling pleasantly. "We have been visiting the tenants with my steward."

Mrs. Bennet looked pleased. "We do hope that you are planning to stay in the neighborhood for a long time."

"Thank you. The welcome we've received is much appreciated," he replied.

"You're all welcome to dine with us on an evening of your choosing," she responded as her eyes kept darting to Mr. Darcy.

"That is very kind of you," Mr. Bingley said, his attention drifting to Jane. "It is sure to be a most pleasant evening."

"Perhaps tomorrow?" Mrs. Bennet pressed.

"We are to dine with Sir William and his family tomorrow," Miss Bingley announced, glancing at Mr. Darcy. "But we would be delighted to join you at another time."

Elizabeth doubted that as much as when Lydia denied "borrowing" a ribbon—it was unlikely to be the truth. There was a reason why she kept her beautiful pieces in a trunk by the foot of her bed, leaving odd, old and unappealing swatches to cover the lock box in her wardrobe. In a house where there was little privacy, she had to preserve what she had.

As Elizabeth carefully observed her mother's reaction to the news, who was sitting beside her, she was grateful to only see her smile tighten. Any sign of control where her mother was concerned should never be taken for granted. Mrs. Bennet should never be underestimated, though. Elizabeth wasn't sure how her mother did it, but when she responded, it sounded as if she knew something they didn't.

"I do hope you have a … pleasant evening. Lucas Lodge is a lovely old place." Mrs. Bennet replied, her smile still in place. Her tone, however, carried a hint of uncertainty. It was as if she had said, "I do hope you manage to have a pleasant evening, even with the infestation."

Miss Bingley straightened and she stared at Mrs. Bennet. "I'm sure it will be," she said with only a small twitch at the corner of her mouth betraying her. To an observing eye, it was clear that Miss Bingley was uncomfortable.

Elizabeth was grateful when Jane intervened, sharing that they had spent many agreeable evenings at Lucas Lodge. As Mr. Bingley listened with attentiveness, his interest in Jane was not hard to see. Jane's response might not have been as visible, but for a sister who'd known Jane all her life, there was a difference in the way she angled her head toward him and in the way she met Mr. Bingley's gaze. For Elizabeth, it was endearing to see.

Looking away, her eyes traveled to Mr. Darcy, who was standing next to a desk by the window. A slight frown puckered her brow as she stared more intently at the desk; it appeared so familiar. All of a sudden, she realized that it was the same desk that had stood in the drawing room years ago. She'd been fascinated by its design, especially when she'd discovered the secret compartment. Then, one day she'd called on Ginny and discovered her mother was in the process of redecorating. The desk had been moved into storage in the attic.

 _They must have returned some of the old furnishings when they moved_ , Elizabeth realized.

Feeling his gaze on her, Elizabeth looked to Mr. Darcy, who was keenly observing her. His eyes seemed to search hers after glancing at the desk. Thinking that he must be wondering why she was staring at a desk, she looked around to see if anyone was paying to attention her before standing. She felt as if everyone was watching as she walked over to Mr. Darcy, while the truth was that no one looked toward them. Miss Bingley was still trying to subtly probe Mrs. Bennet regarding Lucas Lodge, and she seemed ill at ease, though she hid it fairly well. She reminded Elizabeth about a small incident with ants as a child, and she'd tried to hide it since she was not allowed to go near that area. The experience had been unpleasant, to say the least.

Turning her thoughts to Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth stopped on the other side of the desk and allowed her fingers to drift along the edge. "It has been a long time since I've seen this desk," she said softly. Then, with a corner of her mouth pulling slightly upward, she looked at him. "Have you discovered its secrets, Mr. Darcy?"

Mr. Darcy's brows lifted marginally, and he seemed to contemplate his response. "One," he finally answered.

Her smile widened. "If you do not mind me asking, when did you discover it? You have not been here long, and not all of Netherfield Park's inhabitants have discovered its secrets."

He frowned slightly, pausing before he replied. "I found the compartment the night before the assembly."

For a moment, she stared at his furrowed brow and realized it could be seen as disapproving. However, there was an inquisitive look in his eyes that revealed he was deep in thought, and she found herself wondering about what he was thinking. Assuming that he was curious as to how she knew of the secret drawer, she glanced down and watched as her fingers traced the carvings.

With her hand still on the desk, she looked up and met his gaze. "I discovered it by chance. I was staying here while Miss Morris—or Mrs. Ratchford now—was ill, and I volunteered to help with her correspondence." A corner of her mouth lifted with amusement. "She never did like to write, but I have always loved to. There is something enthralling in seeing your thoughts permanently etched on a page, don't you think, Mr. Darcy?"

He appeared to consider his answer. "I'm a slow writer myself. I naturally tend to weigh the words, to examine whether or not they adequately express my thoughts to the recipient."

She looked at him with understanding. "It is not always easy to convey the tone and intention in a letter. Misunderstandings occur even in person and the chance of that happening increase when the meaning is not understood."

He glanced at the floor before meeting her gaze again. "I am truly sorry about what I said that night."

In response, her mouth portrayed wistfulness along with sadness. "I know. Unfortunately, there are times that a few words travel farther than one would expect, leaving repercussions in their wake."

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Before she could respond, however, Miss Bingley interrupted them. "And what are you discussing with Miss Eliza, Mr. Darcy? It's only fair that we should have our share."

Lydia and Kitty failed to suppress their giggles, and Elizabeth knew the cause was Miss Bingley's unintended rhyme. Her sisters could not be called mature, but surely Miss Bingley's cheerful yet demanding tone contributed. She looked as if her smile was frozen on her face like a pond in the winter, and her gaze held an equally cold look that was not properly concealed.

Elizabeth felt Mr. Darcy's eyes on her as he responded. "We were just discussing letters." Then, he turned to Miss Bingley. "And literature, the expression and conveyance of thought."

Mrs. Bennet looked panicked, and Elizabeth knew she was worried that her daughter had scared off a man by being well read and having a strong opinion. However, she could hardly focus on her mother when her mind was stuck on the first part of his response. It had felt as if he was saying more than what could be heard, but she tried to dismiss the thought; there could be no significant meaning. It must've been her imagination due to what they were talking about.

Miss Bingley seemed unsure of how to contribute to the topic, and she appeared relieved when her brother spoke. "I write rather hastily, I'm afraid. My thoughts are too quick for my hand to keep up, and what finds its way to the page is not always illegible," Mr. Bingley said with a laugh. Then, he looked at Mr. Darcy. "But my friend here appears to excavate his mind for four syllable words."

"Brilliant," Miss Bingley said suddenly, her tone overflowing with admiration. "Mr. Darcy is very intelligent, and those who receive correspondence from him are most fortunate."

"I do not deserve such praise, I assure you," Mr. Darcy responded. Looking at him from the corner of her eye, Elizabeth could see that he was uncomfortable with the attention.

"Oh, I'm sure you're just being modest, Mr. Darcy," her mother said with a smile that spoke of eagerness to impress. She must've gathered that books would not scare him off, on the contrary, for she continued. "My Lizzy is a very proficient reader. I'm sure she has read most of the books in Mr. Bennet's collection and it is extensive, if I do say so myself."

As Mr. Bingley replied that he was in need of adding to his own library, Elizabeth felt Mr. Darcy's gaze on her and avoided meeting it. What her mother had said could've been worse—at that moment, she was unsure how, but she knew it was possible—though it was still obvious that Mrs. Bennet was painting her in a flattering light for Mr. Darcy. She would not be meeting his eyes anytime soon if the conversation continued. That said, her heartbeat felt as if she'd taken a long, vigorous walk after the short conversation with Mr. Darcy. There had been interest in his gaze, not censure. With that thought, she couldn't help but peek at him, looking quickly away when she saw that he was still staring at her.

Fortunately, her mother seemed to realize that they were pushing the boundaries of the length of a visit, and it was with great relief that Elizabeth watched as her mother stood. She wasn't quite sure what to do with these new feelings, and in the back of her mind, her thoughts kept returning to Charlotte. She still suspected that her friend hoped that her mother, Lady Lucas, was right, and Elizabeth couldn't bear the thought of Charlotte discovering the truth of what had happened. She would have to guard her own heart until she knew if Mr. Darcy had intentions toward her—which was unlikely, if she was being realistic—as well as thinking about her friend. Stormy waters could be ahead, she realized.

While Elizabeth felt her guard going up, Mrs. Bennet was very satisfied as they left with the assurance that the Bingley party would dine with them soon. She spoke of her daughters' pending marriages before the carriage could kick up dust as they departed.

Two days later, however, Mrs. Bennet deflated like one of Mrs. Hill's collapsed baked delicacies when only Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst returned the call. At least, until she extended the invitation to dine with them again and the sisters said they would come the following night. They did not stay long after that, and Elizabeth suspected social obligation was the only reason why they'd come at all. Still, her mother and younger sisters were thrilled with the news. Of course, the planning of the menu and which gowns they would wear began immediately.

Elizabeth, however, felt conflicted. She looked forward to seeing Mr. Darcy again, but she could not lose the concern she felt about Charlotte. Mr. Darcy was tall and handsome, a wealthy unattached gentleman, and it would not be difficult to understand if her friend was interested. For Elizabeth, though, it was about more than outward appearance. She couldn't explain it, but it felt as if he knew her somehow. He fascinated her. And yet, she had to be cautious, for he had not given her reason to hope and she could not even allow hope for possible expectation, given his place in society.

Even so, she was unable to prevent herself from smiling when she thought about seeing him again.

* * *

 **AN: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! After writing the last word, I saw the word count and realized this one is the longest yet. :) Thank you so much for the wonderful response that this story is receiving! I truly appreciate every review, favorite and alert.**


	7. Chapter 7

**The Letter**

 **Chapter 7**

For all Mr. Darcy had thought about the letter, the moment when Elizabeth discovered that it was in his possession should perhaps have been more considered. As it was, from finding her in Netherfield's drawing room to their conversation by the desk, he had not been prepared for the revelation. They were not prepared. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass her, and he expected that she would feel humiliated if he, a man with whom she only had a short acquaintance, revealed that he had not only found the letter but read it. The opportune time to tell her would come, of that he was sure, for he planned to become the intended recipient. Thus far, he had witnessed nothing to dissuade him.

Not only did he have no desire for her to feel mortified, he had also come to the realization that she did not remember leaving the letter there, for surely her reaction would've indicated if she did. That caused him to wonder if she remembered the letter at all, or if the memory had drifted away with time. The possibility of the latter affirmed his decision to wait before revealing what was in his possession. And for that moment to arrive, he first needed to take care of an important factor.

It was with that thought that Mr. Darcy entered Netherfield's drawing room, bowing to Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst before he spoke. "Has a letter arrived for me?" He might've sounded a bit impatient, but he was eager to know if his cousin had received and responded to his letter. Only the thought that he might need to leave on short notice kept him from Longbourn's drawing room; he felt it was his duty to ensure his sister's future before securing his own.

With a guilty conscience, he thought that it was not only his intended path that was at a standstill for the moment. As with the previous days, he had only just returned with Bingley after spending the day with the steward. Even though Bingley had said that he was at fault when Mrs. Bennet asked, the truth of the matter was that Darcy was keeping himself busy. Unfortunately, that came with the unintended casualty of Bingley being occupied as well, and he grimaced at the reminder of his selfish actions.

However, it could not be helped. He could not enter Longbourn with the declaration that, if she would not mind waiting for an uncertain amount of time, he wanted to court Elizabeth with the intention of marriage in the future. For there were two things that he was sure of—one, he'd known the course he would take the night he met Elizabeth, and two, Wickham would eventually come crawling out and be a threat to his sister, to his family. If he was right, then Wickham would make his reappearance with the announcement of his wedding. He did not want that man near his family again. Darcy would not tolerate the chance of threats being made with the goal of monetary incentives, which made Wickham first priority for the moment.

"Mr. Darcy?" Miss Bingley looked at him questioningly, and he realized she must have responded to his question.

"My apologies, Miss Bingley." His head tipped slightly towards her.

"Not at all." She attempted to look demure as she stepped closer. "You must be tired. You've been working too hard. Out all day under the sun—on the occasion when it comes out from behind the clouds—and the cool wind as we race towards winter. It is simply not a suitable environment for a gentleman."

Mr. Darcy paused and considered her words, wondering if she realized that she had just called him indulged and weak. He almost smirked at the thought, but once again, he reminded himself not to smile in her presence. "It is nothing that I am not used to, I assure you."

"Oh, of course," she quickly replied. "I know that you are diligently involved with Pemberley and the villages under you care."

He chose not to respond to that. "I believe you said something about a letter?"

"Yes, I was just saying that, if any arrived, your correspondence would have been given to your valet, who usually takes it to your chamber. My apologies, Mr. Darcy, for not being able to confirm or deny your inquiry. " She turned away, her head at an angle, and he suspected she wanted to draw his gaze to her neck. The thought was confirmed when she looked back at him over her shoulder. If she wanted to ensnare him, she failed. If she wanted to remind him of the way Elizabeth had looked at him during their dance at the assembly, then she thoroughly succeeded. It served to spur him on to discover whether or not his cousin, Richard Fitzwilliam, had responded, though he knew it was too soon. Thus, he excused himself and departed from the drawing room.

Unfortunately, as much as he loved his sister, it was only a letter from her. Still, as he read her words and thought back to his conversation with Elizabeth, the desire to take care of Wickham's black presence on the horizon deepened. He would do it for them. Elizabeth deserved to be courted with his full attention.

Now he only had to get past his nightmare that haunted him since the previous night. He had dreamed that Elizabeth was engaged when he returned.

~P&P~

Something was amiss. Darcy surmised that much after supper when the men entered the drawing room. There was nothing obvious to give it away, except for the uneasy feeling he experienced when Miss Bingley suddenly stopped talking. As the evening went on, he noticed the way that the corner of her mouth tilted as she watched him reading his book. The woman was up to something, and he was completely convinced of the fact.

When he retired for the evening, Darcy pondered a possible solution as he regarded his valet. "Wilson, have you heard any gossip going around downstairs?"

His valet's hands paused as he picked up his master's coat. Darcy knew that it would be difficult for him to admit to such a thing, so he quickly reassured him. "No one would be in danger of dismissal, Wilson. I simply need to know if … anyone has overheard something pertaining to Miss Bingley."

"Miss Bingley, Sir?"

Darcy was second guessing his decision to approach his valet already, but with Miss Bingley in the same house, it was most likely best to be on the side of caution. The mere thought of being trapped in a compromising situation with Miss Bingley was enough for the words to spill forthwith.

"Yes, Miss Bingley." He turned to look Wilson in the eye. "Is there any reason to suspect that she might be planning … a compromising situation?"

Wilson's eyes widened before he quickly concealed his emotions. "No, Sir, nothing that I am aware of." He continued hesitantly. "There is a servant that I believe we can trust. I've noticed that she doesn't participate when the others … talk. Perhaps if I ask her to inform me if she hears anything?"

Staring at the floor, Darcy paused as he contemplated the best course of action. Then, he looked up and turned to Wilson. "If you are sure that we can entrust her with this matter, do it. And give her a few coins for her trouble."

Wilson nodded. "Of course, Sir."

The following day, Darcy was awake and had taken a morning ride by the time that the others broke their fast. He joined them and accepted a cup of tea, just beginning to lift it to his mouth when Miss Bingley spoke.

"I must offer my sincere apologies, Charles. I am afraid that I neglected to mention a matter of some importance last evening. I am not sure how it escaped me." Miss Bingley laughed and a genuine ring could not be heard in it. "Louisa and I had a very pleasant afternoon yesterday. We made a few calls, and while at Longbourn, we were invited to dine with them tonight. I accepted, of course."

Bingley's expression lit up with joy. "This day could not have started with better news. Yes, of course, we will be there. I am looking forward to it."

With suspicion rising, Darcy watched Miss Bingley closely as she responded. "Absolutely. It is sure to be an evening that we will not soon forget."

~P&P~

"Lizzy, I need to speak with you for a moment," Mrs. Bennet announced, appearing rather flustered as she walked into Elizabeth's room. Her countenance was not a surprise, however, for all who dwelled there had heard that everything must be perfect for the anticipated guests. Mrs. Bennet had been obsessing over Elizabeth's gown and the right menu to impress Mr. Darcy. It would have been strange had she not seemed stressed. The energy in the house was running high, and it showed as Mrs. Bennet attempted to catch her breath.

"I'll go see if Lydia needs my help," Jane said softly, stepping away as she finished with sister's hair.

"What is it, Mamma?" Elizabeth felt a little trepidation as she asked the question.

Stepping closer, her mother took one of her hands. "Oh, I do not know what to do, Lizzy. You need me and Jane needs me as well."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to assure her mother that was not necessary, but the older woman continued before she could. "But after you were so resourceful to speak to Mr. Darcy when we called at Netherfield, I think I can trust you with the responsibility of making sure he knows you are interested. That will leave me free to help Jane."

Momentarily bereft of words, Elizabeth stared at her mother. Then, the words began to flow. "That is not necessary, Mamma. I am speaking of Jane, of course. If you want to help, perhaps you should speak to my other sisters," she gently suggested.

Mrs. Bennet turned to leave and spoke over her shoulder. "It may be a good idea to speak to Mary about the pianoforte after supper, but I cannot fathom your meaning regarding Kitty and Lydia. They are young and no one can begrudge them a little fun, as long as it remains harmless."

Elizabeth had no words as her mother left, her mouth opening and closing. For all Mrs. Bennet's anxiety about the menu, could she not see that there were greater concerns? Lydia was fifteen and Kitty seventeen, but for the trouble those two caused at times, it would not seem strange to subtract ten years. It was with this thought that Elizabeth finished her preparation for the evening.

Suddenly, Mrs. Bennet's voice reached upstairs from below. Curious, yet almost afraid to discover the cause, Elizabeth exited her room and paused halfway down the stairs. From where she stood, she could overhear her mother talking to her father in his book room.

"But what is the meaning of this, Mr. Bennet? How could you do this to you daughter? To your favorite?" The tone of her voice climbed with each enquiry.

"Ever since the assembly, all I seem to hear is that you are sure Mr. Darcy will ask for Elizabeth's hand, while Lady Lucas is equally sure that he is interested in her daughter. I, for one, think it wise to observe the young man's behavior. Lizzy is not to be trifled with." She could hear the amusement in her father's voice as he continued. "Besides, it is sure to make for an interesting evening."

Her mother's groan and huff could be heard as she departed from the room, and Elizabeth sat down on the stairs with her hands over her mouth. From what she gathered, Mr. Bennet and Sir William must have spoken and now his family was coming as well. There was a good chance that disaster was a more appropriate word to describe the evening instead of interesting.

"Hill!" Mrs. Bennet's voice traveled sharply as she headed toward the kitchen. "We are going to need another pie or two. You know Sir William has never considered watching his girth."

Elizabeth lowered her face into her hand with a groan. After a few seconds, she stood and ascended the stairs. Then, as she walked past Kitty and Lydia's chamber, her ears caught whispers, which was never a good sign.

"Do I want to know?" she asked, standing in the doorway.

Picking up another ribbon, Lydia held it against her dress. "No need to concern yourself, Lizzy. It is just a bit of harmless fun, and I can assure you that Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley are safe."

"Lydia!" She stepped closer. "When will you stop this? You know Mamma would be in need of smelling salts if she knew the two of you are planning something."

Lydia turned toward her, giving her a quick hug before moving towards another ribbon on the bed. "I will stop when there is a ring on my finger," she replied with laughter. "Do not worry. We will not incite Mamma's wrath."

Kitty's eyes widened and her hand covered her mouth. "Can you imagine coming between Mamma and a husband for one of us?"

"As long as I am only the witness and not the culprit, I would not mind seeing that," Lydia responded. Then, she and Kitty shared a look before bursting into laughter. Looking upward while taking a deep breath, Elizabeth left the room in search of Jane. They needed to keep an eye on "The Troublesome Two."

* * *

 **AN: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm having a lot of fun writing the next one. I decided to move the dinner to chapter 8 due to the length of the scene. :) Thank you so much for the amazing response! I appreciate every review, favorite and alert. Thank you very much.**


	8. Chapter 8

**The Letter**

 **Chapter 8**

A cacophony of voices filled the dining room at Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet made sure that Mr. Darcy sat beside Elizabeth, and the latter was rather distracted by keeping an eye on Lydia, who was sitting on his other side. With Elizabeth quiet with concern, Charlotte spoke to Mr. Darcy. She was seated opposite him, and Elizabeth's gaze kept switching back and forth between Lydia and Charlotte, trying to judge whether or not her friend had hopes regarding Mr. Darcy.

"Mr. Darcy," Lady Lucas began, glancing at Charlotte. "Miss Bingley tells me that your sister plays the pianoforte with great skill. My dear Charlotte has always had an ear for true appreciation of music."

Something in Mr. Darcy's tone drew Elizabeth's attention as he spoke. "That is a gift; one that my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, also possesses."

Observing his expression did not reveal anything, though Elizabeth felt as if she should be amused. The revelation of his connection also flitted through her mind and was stowed away for a later time, for after hearing how much he owned, the latest discovery did not come as a big surprise.

"Oh, what honor you bestow on my daughter to liken her to your aunt, Mr. Darcy." Lady Lucas nodded in deference, appearing very pleased.

" _Lady_ Catherine de Bourgh," Mrs. Bennet said with emphasis, the soup dripping of her spoon on its forgotten path to her lips.

Elizabeth could not bring herself to look up from her bowl, resisting the urge to bite her lower lip.

"My uncle was Sir Lewis de Bourgh, and my aunt is the daughter of the Earl of Matlock. Her brother, my uncle, now carries the title." He almost sounded reluctant to reveal the information. At that moment, servants stepped closer and took away the first course before returning with trays, placing the feast in the center of the table.

"Your uncle is of the peerage?" Mrs. Bennet's eyes widened. Then, she turned to the daughter closest to her, Mary, and whispered a bit too loudly, "Sit up straight."

Mrs. Bennet turned back to Mr. Darcy, her manner speaking of respect. "It is an honor to have you here in our humble home, Mr. Darcy."

With a thankful heart, Elizabeth thought that at least her mother did not ask how far down he was in the line of inheriting the title.

"Thank you for your hospitality," he replied after a brief period of silence.

"Tell me, Mr. Darcy," Mr. Bennet began, appearing to be reflecting on what he heard. Then, his expression changed to amusement, and he relaxed in his chair with a glass in his hand. There was something deliberate in the action, and a glance at a fretful Mrs. Bennet confirmed it. "What do you think of our fair county? Or should I say, our fair maidens? I hear you were quite the favorite at the assembly."

Dread started to build within Elizabeth. As much as her mother could behave without decorum, so her father didn't know boundaries when it came to finding to sport in a situation.

Mr. Darcy politely set down his silverware and looked at her father. "The countryside is pleasing to the eye from the back of my horse, and I cannot fault it. As for the assembly, beauties catch the attention of the gentlemen present and one cannot fault that, either. After all, is that not part of the purpose of the evening?"

Elizabeth nearly choked on a piece of meat at his answer. She didn't know whether to be affronted or amused, though leaning more towards the former. Swallowing, she turned to Mr. Darcy. "In your opinion, does the gentleman ever try to catch _her_ eye? Or have the roles been cast forevermore?"

Though his expression remained passive, his eyes revealed delight in her response. "No, I do not believe the roles are set. For if a man is to ask for her hand, he must be worthy of her esteem. He must have earned it. Do you not agree, Miss Elizabeth?"

There was something meaningful in his gaze, and she could feel a blush lighting up her countenance. "Yes," she whispered. "In an ideal world, he would have to earn it first."

He stared at her a moment longer before turning to Mr. Bennet. "And I do not believe I was a favorite, for there is nothing unusual about being talked about upon entering a new neighborhood. Hopefully, as time passes, we will be no more talked about than anyone else."

 _Hopefully, to be sure,_ Elizabeth thought, knowing the likelihood of that occurring was miniscule. Rich, unmarried gentlemen would always be talked about, and the loss of potential mourned after they married.

Mr. Bennet nodded in concession, but he was prevented from saying anything else when Miss Bingley spoke. Her smile was condescending as usual. "I am sure the arrival of the regiment will serve as a great distraction. What do you say, Miss Lydia? I expect you and your sisters will be visiting your aunt and uncle often in Meryton once the regiment arrives. Your uncle is an attorney, is he not?"

"Yes," Lydia replied with a cheerful yet guarded expression, her eyes slightly narrowed. Miss Bingley's turn towards their connections could not be missed, considering earlier revelations. "We are sure to see them often, and my aunt has promised to host a card party."

"A card party! A most excellent idea," Mr. Hurst interjected from his place further down the table.

"Yes, it is a delightful idea. I imagine that you and your sisters are counting the hours, for the evening is sure to provide entertainment." The smirk on Miss Bingley's face was unmissable, and she appeared even more satisfied as the frown on Mr. Darcy's countenance deepened. "I believe that you also have an uncle who resides in Cheapside, is that correct?"

Feeling Mr. Darcy's tension beside her, Elizabeth looked back and forth with a contemplative expression. If she had to guess, Miss Bingley wanted Mr. Darcy to see the Bennet family in an unfavorable light. His frown, however, was not so easy to understand. She was tempted to believe it was due to her family's impropriety and connections, but it was difficult to believe that was the cause. He did not even glance at her family; his eyes was firmly fixed on Miss Bingley.

"Yes," Jane spoke up, her voice soft but strong. "Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner are truly the best of people. I have often said that they are gardeners of the heart, for they touch the lives of their acquaintances."

"That is lovely," Mr. Bingley said, unable to keep his eyes off her. No doubt, he would not remember the courses that were served.

"Jane, dear, do assist Mr. Bingley if he needs it," Mrs. Bennet interjected, nodding not so subtly toward the trays of food.

"How charming," Miss Bingley responded with a barely concealed look of disdain. Her countenance changed to satisfaction, however, when she turned her gaze to Mr. Darcy.

He was still staring at her, which led Elizabeth to wonder if the frown was perhaps directed at Miss Bingley. Had she surprised him with information? It was not a carefully concealed secret, and Elizabeth knew she would have told him herself had it come up during a conversation. No, the problem was Miss Bingley's intention behind it. Elizabeth felt as though her inquisitive mind was crackling like a fire as she considered what she knew and suspected.

With a smile that was a little too sweet, Lydia said, "I am sure you have heard, Miss Bingley, that the regiment will be marching through town, and I plan on dropping my handkerchief. Will you be dropping one of yours as well, Miss Bingley?"

Miss Bingley froze. Without her saying the exact words, Lydia had strongly insinuated that she did not believe there was an understanding between Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley, as the latter had tried to imply upon their arrival at the assembly. For those who knew Lydia, it was clear that she had not appreciated the thinly veiled thorns in Miss Bingley's words.

"No, I have no intention of participating," Miss Bingley finally responded, a slight curve in her lip revealing contempt. Then, she turned to Mr. Darcy. "I doubt we will be attending. Is that not correct, Mr. Darcy?"

Elizabeth's brows rose slightly, and she simply could not prevent herself—the opportunity was simply too good. Trying her best to keep a neutral expression, she turned to the man beside her. "It would be a shame for you to miss it, Mr. Darcy. It is sure to be festive day that will bring out the best of moods in everyone."

A light entered his eyes as he stared at her, and then he turned to Miss Bingley. "Your brother has not made his desire known, but I was under to impression that we will be attending, Miss Bingley."

"Perfect!" Lydia exclaimed. "I will find us the best place to stand, Miss Bingley. We can even drop our handkerchiefs together."

"How kind of you." Miss Bingley sounded as if she had to force herself to say the words.

In that moment, it happened. While Miss Bingley was distracted as she stared at Mr. Darcy, Kitty—who sat beside her—switched her generous plate with Miss Bingley's. Fortunately, many were caught up in their conversations and the exchange was quick, so Elizabeth assumed that few had seen it. Turning slowly to Mr. Darcy, she could immediately see that he had observed it, and one brow slightly lifted confirmed it. The expression was an attractive look on his face, and she had no difficulty admitting that to herself.

As the expression changed into a furrowed brow, however, she knew that this time it was directed toward her family. She wanted to feel offended—they were her family—but she could not. Not completely, at least, for their behavior was inappropriate. It was shamefully immature, to be honest. She had no doubt that Lydia's words had served a dual purpose, for the switch had no doubt been planned.

Elizabeth watched as Mr. Darcy glanced first at her mother and then at her father with a displeased expression. Sadly, she knew that he was right; they had let her sisters go unchecked in the past. However, Elizabeth realized that there could be a change in the future, for someone else had also noticed—Mrs. Bennet. Her mother looked as if someone had just told her that none of her daughters would ever marry.

The event continued to bring revelation—though not for Miss Bingley, since she appeared to be too preoccupied to notice anything amiss. Well, immediately, at least; she frowned in confusion when she finally looked away from Mr. Darcy and took notice of her plate. She glanced on either side, but Kitty had already moved the food around and added a bit. Catherine Bennet was quieter than Lydia, but that did not mean that she was any less mischievous. She even had the audacity to smile at Miss Bingley and ask if she was enjoying the evening, which resulted in Mrs. Bennet fanning herself with her hand. Elizabeth feared that she would suffer from a case of nerves overwhelming her, causing her mother to struggle for breath while rasping for the smelling salts.

She could not believe what she was about to do it, but her mother needed a distraction. Leaning forward a little, Elizabeth caught her eye and smiled. "Mamma, Mr. Darcy says he believes they will be attending when the regiment marches through Meryton."

She felt as though she was itching in her skin at the sound of eagerness in her voice. However, if anything could save the evening, it would be her mother's believe that she was making progress with Mr. Darcy. She was not disappointed; her mother's emotions had always changed rather quickly, depending on how her surroundings influenced her.

Mrs. Bennet's eyes shifted between the two of them, and her breathing calmed before a smile lit up her countenance. "Wonderful, Mr. Darcy! It is sure to be a joyous occasion. You can stand with our family if you like."

Mr. Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, his expression having turned thoughtful, and then he turned to Mrs. Bennet. "Your youngest daughter has already been kind enough to invite us to join you. We gladly accept, thank you, Mrs. Bennet."

"Oh, how lovely." Mrs. Bennet smiled overflowed with joy. "We look forward to it."

As her mother continued to speak to those closest to her, Elizabeth found herself being distracted and very aware at the same time. A few arm bumps was to be expected with so many people around the table, but she felt slight pressure where Mr. Darcy's arm was against hers. She would have thought it was by accident if not for the fact that the feeling remained; he did not move away. One word echoed through her thoughts: _Solidarity_.

Elizabeth looked up at him with an inquisitive expression, wondering what he was thinking. It was clear that he did not agree with all that had transpired, yet he did not seem moved. Who was this man? _Determined,_ flashed through her mind. He was clearly of high birth, and he still pursued her at the assembly to correct what she had overheard. Simply stated, he intrigued her.

His gaze met hers unexpectedly and something passed between them. Involuntarily, the words of a sonnet flowed through her mind. _For these are the ties that bind. I am carried along the streams of light, and it is in your eyes that I find my heart's call of life._

Elizabeth nearly laughed in response, causing her to quickly focus on her plate. As her cheeks were dusted with pink, she pressed her lips together to keep her laughter contained. The reason was uncomplicated. Elizabeth had always been convinced a few lines of poetry were all that was needed for love to wither, and yet, it was through her thoughts that the words flowed. She glanced up at Mr. Darcy with a smile filled with delight, inwardly laughing at herself, and she discovered that he was still watching her.

"Joy becomes you, Miss Elizabeth," he said softly.

Her lips parted slightly in surprise. "Thank you, Mr. Darcy." Then, she quickly returned her focus to the table, convinced that her face would turn an intense hue if she did not. Nonetheless, the pleasing curve of her lips revealed enough.

As she looked up, her gaze suddenly caught Charlotte's as she watched them with a wistful expression. Then, the unexpected occurred—Charlotte smiled encouragingly at her. Elizabeth was hit with confusion and the realization that she had been wrong all at once, accompanied by no small amount of relief as well. The meaning of the latter she put aside for the moment.

Comprehension dawned with the memory of Charlotte's words. _It is difficult to get to know someone in half an hour here and there. You must admit that, Lizzy._

Her mother had been the one to say that Mr. Darcy apologized for the slight, and it was not unlikely that it was believed that his apology was Mrs. Bennet's interpretation of the rest of the evening. If Charlotte thought Elizabeth held on to even an inkling of resentment and prejudice, then she would be concerned that her friend would not truly consider Mr. Darcy.

 _Charlotte is concerned,_ Elizabeth realized. At eight and twenty, Charlotte had long ago pushed dreams aside for realism. At that moment, she was concerned that injured vanity could hurt her friend's future.

… _Mr. Darcy could not keep his eyes off you. …_

 _You must be realistic, Lizzy. Finding love in marriage is a matter of chance._

She didn't want Elizabeth to turn down the chance to experience a love that could grow strong from marriage, simply because it was not at that point yet. The future emerged from the present, and for Elizabeth to experience the love match that she hoped for, a dash of realism could be rewarding. The realization brought fresh gratitude for her dear friend in Elizabeth's heart.

She remembered something else that Charlotte had said: _Can you honestly say that you would turn him down were he to ask for your hand?_

Did love need to meet all of her expectations, or could she see the possibility of a future before it came to pass? With startling clarity, Elizabeth realized that she had already answered the question in the letter after the assembly.

 _My mother is of the opinion that I met you tonight, and for what may be the first time, I think my heart could be in agreement with her. …_

~P&P~

As the carriage left Longbourn behind and headed toward Netherfield, Mr. Darcy's hand tightened into a fist and his jaw clenched. He felt frustration and aggravation boiling within him, and he did his best to avoid looking at Miss Bingley. He had been wrong about what her plan was, but her devices were immediately revealed upon utilization. She had waited until the younger Bennet girls' behavior escalated before bringing their connections to his attention. And he had no doubt that there was more—she wasn't finished yet. From what he gathered, considering Mr. Bennet was from landed gentry, it seemed as though Mrs. Bennet came from a middle class background.

Though not ideal, his uncle and aunts would not approve, he would rather fight that battle than a loveless marriage. He could not stand the thought of a marrying a woman who only saw his fortune, as Wickham had only seen Georgiana's dowry without considered how it affected her.

Relaxing his jaw as it began to protest the force, he wondered if Miss Bingley had considered that she was only one generation removed from trade herself. If he had to guess, he would say that she had not, for Miss Bingley seemed to bury that truth with denial. As he looked in her direction, he could almost feel satisfaction rolling off her like waves crashing against the shore. It occurred to him in that moment that she was completely misreading his displeasure.

For a second or two, he thought about leaving her under that impression. However, his annoyance was too great, so he turned to Bingley and spoke with a calmness that did not reveal his agitated state. "A very pleasant evening, wouldn't you say, Bingley?"

Miss Bingley's expression fractured instantly, and when she spoke, it sounded as if she'd stepped into the unwanted business of Lady Catherine's beloved dog, Lewie—named after her late husband, Sir Lewis. "Honestly, Mr. Darcy, you surprise me. How can one enjoy an evening where impropriety abounds and the company is below you?"

"I believe he was addressing me, Caroline," Bingley said with a slight edge in his voice. "I would have to agree with Darcy; it was a very pleasant evening. It would do you well to remember that we are new to the neighborhood and these people have been here for generations. I am only _leasing_ Netherfield, Caroline."

"Yes, and I am grateful for that fact every day, Charles. It means that you can still come to your senses," she replied. Her tone changed, exuding admiration. "I do not understand why you are not looking for a place closer to Pemberley. The beauty of Derbyshire is beyond compare."

"I urge you to make peace with your circumstances," Bingley replied, his gaze unwavering as he stared at her. "Unless you are planning to eventually return with Hurst and Louisa, then you will be here for the foreseeable future."

"We have no plans to return anytime soon, Bingley," Hurst quickly interjected. "We are enjoying the country."

 _And being Bingley's guests,_ Darcy could not help but think. A rumor had reached Bingley that the Hursts had sold a few of the paintings once displayed in their home in town, and Bingley had confided in him after seeing other pieces on the walls. It was no secret that Hurst enjoyed the card tables. With some convincing from Bingley, Hurst had invested what was left of Mrs. Hurt's dowry and it would be a while before they saw a sizable return.

"And you're welcome to stay," Bingley replied amiably. Then, he turned to Miss Bingley. "Just remember who these people are, Caroline."

"Oh, I have no intention of forgetting," she responded with a determined expression.

* * *

 **AN: Thank you so much for your patience! I also want to say thank you for every review, favorite and alert. It means so much to hear from you. :) I hope you liked the chapter! Thanks again.**


	9. Chapter 9

**The Letter**

 **Chapter 9**

There was a moment of silence. As if to fracture the fragile absence of voices, the crushing sound of gravel under a departing carriage wheel pierced through the stillness. The youngest Bennet girls squealed in delight over the evening, and Mrs. Bennet lost her smile in the same moment.

"Mr. Bennet!" his wife cried. "You simply must speak to your daughters."

"Can it not wait until the morrow?" he asked with one foot already on the stairs. Sighing, he changed direction and headed toward his sanctuary. From experience, he knew if his wife wanted to talk, there would be talking.

"The morrow?" Following him into the book room, his wife's voice ascended as she continued. "Mr. Bennet, due to your youngest daughters, we very nearly lost all hope for the future. Do you want to see us thrown out of our home with only the minimal amount money per annum to get by?"

He smirked as he sat down behind his desk. "With Kitty's sleight of hand skills, it is doubtful that you will starve."

Snickering in the hallway could be heard in response to his dry humor. However, Mrs. Bennet was not amused and her hands shook by her sides. It almost appeared as though she wanted to throttle him, and she might have considered it if not for the fact that a breathing Mr. Bennet was preferable. "This is no laughing matter, Mr. Bennet. Your daughters brought shame on this family. What would we have done if Mr. Darcy had reacted differently to the scheme?"

The older woman huffed indignantly. "Upon hearing it, I immediately knew that it must have been Lady Lucas who had informed Miss Bingley regarding our connections. I had already begun to savor the thought of calling at Lucas Lodge in a fine chaise, with the Darcy emblem on door, when your youngest nearly ruined it all."

Mr. Bennet stared at her quizzically, eyes shining with mirth. "When would you have the occasion to use the Darcy carriage?"

"When they visit after they are married, of course. But that is beside the point at the moment, Mr. Bennet. Because of your daughters, all of our hopes were nearly swept away as if by a flood." She whimpered and touched her lips with her fingers. "A flood of shame."

"I cannot help but notice that all of a sudden they are only my daughters." When he leaned back in his chair without appearing greatly disturbed, the sight only caused to incite Mrs. Bennet all over again.

She seemed ready to launch like a catapult at Mr. Bennet when she spoke. "If you spent more time with them, checked their behavior, none of this would have happened."

"So it falls to me to discipline them?" He waved his hands toward the bookshelves behind him. "Perhaps some time at home with a book will give them new insight."

"No!" Lydia and Kitty exclaimed, nearly falling as they rushed into the room. The other three Bennet daughters remained just outside the opening in the hallway. "Please say we can still go to the march through town?" the youngest added.

Mrs. Bennet gave her husband a look before she nodded at their daughters, her hands nervously touching the folds of her gown. "Of course, you will go. You already made arrangements with Miss Bingley." She stepped closer to Lydia and Kitty. "But hear me, girls, not one scheme. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Mamma," the two quickly agreed.

"Oh, if not for your sister." Touching her lips again, Mrs. Bennet walked over to the door and took Elizabeth's hand. "My dear Lizzy, you remind me so much of myself when I courted your father. I-I mean, when he courted me."

A snort came from behind her from the direction of the desk. "Yes, everywhere I turned, you were there. Eventually I thought, you are already there, so why not make it official?"

Mrs. Bennet glared at him over her shoulder. "You were the one with more legal issues to discuss than anyone else in the county. You were always at our door."

There was something akin to fondness in his smile. "True, very true."

Returning the smile, Mrs. Bennet calmed and turned back to her youngest daughters. "I agree with your father. Some time with books will do you good. Just look how well it is turning out for Lizzy." She straightened her shoulders. "With the exception of social obligations that cannot be missed, you are to stay in and around the house. Ask you father or sister for book recommendations."

While Kitty seemed petulant, Lydia visibly paled. "Mamma, please. We will not do anything alike in the future. I'll stay here if that is what you wish. But please, you know. …" She suddenly copied Kitty's expression. "You know that we do not want to spend our time with boring books."

Mrs. Bennet picked up the closest book and lightly held it against Lydia's chest. "Things change with time, of that I am certain. And it is time for a change in this house. If there is one thing I will not tolerate, then it is danger to ensuring our future."

With that, she walked out and shouted over her shoulder as she ascended the stairs. "Come on, girls. Time for you beauty sleep."

Elizabeth, however, stood still. Though Lydia did a good job of pretending, her older sister noticed the slight tremor in her hands. Something was wrong. She was unsure what exactly the cause was, but she would discover the reason.

~P&P~

Mist was still covering the ground as Elizabeth walked in the direction of Lucas Lodge. There was something mysterious and alluring about the landscape in the early morning light. This was her favorite hour—when all was still and the cold brushed against her skin, with the scent of the ground hanging in the air. If someone asked, she would describe the moment as though she was part of a painting; the artist's brushstrokes capturing the peace and beauty before the loudness of a new day disturbed the picture.

When she arrived at the old fallen tree just within the border of Lucas Lodge, she sat down and waited for Charlotte. She had only needed to ask before her friend inquired where they would meet—wait until the calling hours the next day or their old spot since childhood. Many childhood dreams about castles had been reenacted there, and usually, they rescued themselves. For the most part, the reason was young William Lucas did not want to play with them.

In her mind's eye, Elizabeth could see Jane on a blanket on the warmer days. She saw herself with her back against a tree, reading a book as she grew older. She saw Mary as a very young child pretending to play the pianoforte on the bark of the fallen tree. And she remembered a time, around nine years of age, when Lady Lucas and her mother had been there as well. The former had asked Mrs. Bennet if they were considering a governess. In response, her mother had commented that it was unlikely, and then she went on to say something about five dowries and no heir to be expected.

"Lizzy!" Charlotte called out as she crossed the field, breaking Elizabeth from her reverie. "I'm surprised that you wanted to meet so early. I would have thought that you were all up until late discussing the evening."

Elizabeth stood and hugged her friend. "I'm sorry if my request inconvenienced you. I wanted to ask you something that has haunted my thoughts relentlessly, but the opportune time never arrived."

Charlotte drew her cloak closer against the morning chill and sat down on the log. "It is quite all right, Lizzy, I do not mind. What is it that has troubled you so?"

Sitting down beside her friend, Elizabeth turned to her. "Why did you say that it hardly matters? When I asked if you liked Mr. Darcy, you did not deny it. You would not believe the turmoil that I have experienced because of it, for I would never want to hurt you. Last night, I realized you were encouraging me. I simply cannot understand why you didn't say so that day in the drawing room."

Charlotte smiled. "You just said it yourself, Lizzy."

Her brow furrowed in response. "I do not understand."

Laughing softly, it was clear that Charlotte was enjoying the moment. "I am going to remember this. For all you observation skills, you really do not see it, do you?"

Elizabeth felt slightly off balance; not grasping a situation was unusual for her. When she didn't respond, Charlotte continued. "You are right; I have been encouraging you. If you will recall, I said that it hardly matters, because Mr. Darcy only had eyes for you. There are other interested parties, and I would not want you to lose your chance because you defined his character by one moment. He must have had another reason for what he said, for he did not even glance in your direction when he spoke that night at the assembly. I thought that he deserved a second chance."

Elizabeth's conscience assailed her, and she found herself wishing that Mr. Darcy could overhear her friend defend him; the very one he had slighted. _That would cure him of speaking hastily,_ she thought. She had to remind herself that he had apologized.

"You have been trying to improve his standing in my sight," she eventually stated, looking across the field.

Charlotte leaned back on her hands. "This is not a chance that comes along often. You must make the most of it. He seems like a good, honorable man, and you could certainly do worse."

An amused smile appeared on Elizabeth's face. "I don't think Mr. Darcy has ever been referred to in such a way." Sitting up straight, she took a deep breath and then a laugh escaped. "I will say this, though. If last night does not make him leave the county, then I would be foolish not to accept his offer were he to make one. Where would I find another eligible gentleman who is prepared to make such an alliance?"

Her friend mirrored her smile, and it brought something in remembrance for Elizabeth. "Charlotte," she began hesitantly. "In the drawing room, you appeared sad when I asked if you like him."

Her close friend stared at Lucas Lodge and sighed. "Believe me, Lizzy, no one would be happier for you if you entered into a good marriage than me. I would not wish my situation on anyone." There was a sad smile on her face as she turned to Elizabeth. "Though I try to fight against it, my heart prevails and longs for someone to look at me the way Mr. Darcy looks at you."

She took Elizabeth's hand in her own, imploring her with her gaze to listen. "Mr. Darcy would be a wonderful match for you. Even if you do not feel the deepest of love for him yet, I know it can grow if you nurture whatever you are already feeling. Do not hold against him what he said, not even a shard of it. Though smaller than a sword, a needle can still cause injury."

Elizabeth stared at her thoughtfully. "You are wise, Charlotte. However, I must point out that you are speaking as if he has already asked for my hand. His intellect may overcome his infatuation, if he truly feels what you believe he does." Elizabeth looked away. "You were there last night. Need I say more?"

"Elizabeth." Charlotte waited for her to turn towards her before speaking. "He did not move away. I am sure he has a lot to consider, but he did not pull away from you. That much I did see."

She was almost too afraid to hope that her friend was correct. Leaning over, Elizabeth hugged her and said softly, "Thank you for being such a dear friend."

~P&P~

A joyous atmosphere greeted the Bennets as they entered Meryton. They first went to the Phillips', though they weren't there long before Kitty and Lydia's impatience got on everyone's nerves. Thus, they departed and found a good spot to wait for the regiment. Many groups formed, and for all the laughter and conversation, it almost appeared as though there was an outdoor assembly; all they needed was musicians and dancing.

When the Netherfield party arrived, Lydia hooked her arm through Miss Bingley's as if they were old friends. She guided them closer to the street, though keeping a safe distance from the road. Elizabeth watched them with an amused smile, and she also noticed that her mother's attention was again more directed towards Mr. Bingley.

"Beautiful day, is it not, Mr. Darcy?" she asked, looking up at him from under the brim of her bonnet.

He inclined his head towards her. "Indeed. Were it to rain, the handkerchiefs will be lost in the mud."

Elizabeth laughed. "Oh dear, I can only imagine the officers washing handkerchiefs by the river, hoping they have the correct one to secure an introduction."

"That would certainly be a sight to see." Little revealed his emotions, but she heard a certain dry tone that caused her smile to widen.

"Oh, here they come!" Lydia exclaimed, still holding Miss Bingley's arm. The latter tilted her head away from the loud voice next to her ear. If haughtiness and disdain were ever painted as expressions, an artist would not need to look further than that moment.

The man on the horse leading the procession was said to be Colonel Forster. When he drew close enough to discern his features, Lydia leaned her head towards Miss Bingley as if she was about to swoon. "Oh, he is so handsome. And I hear he is unattached!"

Miss Bingley's only response was to turn her head away from the squeal in her ear, causing Lydia to press for an answer when she didn't receive one. "Do you not agree, Miss Bingley?"

Elizabeth watched as Miss Bingley turned and surveyed him. The colonel sat proudly in the saddle, the little that was revealed of his dark hair displayed a few grey streaks, and he was to be considered a handsome man with a strong jaw. He had an impressive air about him, which caused a few of the ladies to fan themselves. Or giggle, as was the case with Lydia and Kitty.

"He is tolerable, I suppose," Miss Bingley responded with a hint of red on her cheeks. Then, she quickly dropped her handkerchief and moved as if to step back. "There, I have participated. Someone else is welcome to my place."

"Do not be silly, Miss Bingley," Lydia responded. "You must give an officer the chance to pick it up."

Elizabeth looked up at Mr. Darcy with her brow slightly raised, inquiring silently about Miss Bingley's choice of words.

He shifted uncomfortably before his posture regained its unmoving lines. "Coincidence, I assure you," he said, keeping his voice low.

"So not the same view on society that some would deem beneath you?" She searched his expression that revealed so little, detecting a slight movement of his shoulders.

"Perhaps at one point," he admitted, looking on as the regiment marched past them.

Her eyes showed intrigue and appreciation for his honesty. "If I may ask, Mr. Darcy, what changed? If there, in fact, has been a change."

He turned his gaze to her. "I believe so. It was a number of things and the culmination of them was a letter."

"The author must be held in high regard to bring about such a change," she replied, the marching of the footsteps nearly matching her heart rate. She found herself wondering why—the letter could not have been from an intended. She believed that he was too honorable to pay any amount of attention to her if he was engaged.

"She is," he responded. "Miss Elizabeth … Are you going drop your handkerchief?"

She frowned as he changed the subject. "No, I have no intention of doing so. Why do you ask?"

He appeared deep in thought as he nodded. "Is there a chance that you did bring one?"

Perplexed, Elizabeth looked up at him. "I have a handkerchief in my reticule, but I never entertained the idea of using it for other purposes today."

"May I see it?" His countenance did not reveal much, though tension along his jawline betrayed him.

She paused for a moment before handing him the handkerchief. Much to her surprise, he took it and placed the delicate fabric in his coat pocket. Then, he turned to fully face her. "Miss Elizabeth, due to business that I need to attend to at once, I am to leave for London at the break of day tomorrow. However, I could not leave without speaking to you first.

"I am planning on returning; only I cannot say when." His gaze searched hers as his voice carried an undertone of urgency, and his fingers moved by his side, almost as if he wanted to reach out. "Miss Elizabeth, I will return your handkerchief. If I may."

She stared at him, her mouth slightly open. At the most unexpected place and time—after a near disastrous dinner—Mr. Darcy had as good as declared his intentions toward her. She was stunned. Her mind flitted to her realization during the dinner at Longbourn, and Elizabeth found herself confronted by what she had not allowed herself to seriously consider—did she see a life together for her and Mr. Darcy? And again, she knew that she had already answered the question. Her heart could agree, for it was already affected.

"You may, Mr. Darcy," she replied, her voice only loud enough for his ears. "I wish you a save journey and a speedy return."

He nodded and took a small step closer. "Now is not the time to explain. However, know this, Elizabeth, I would not have left now were there any other way."

She was silent at the use of her Christian name. Finding her voice, she said, "I believe you are an honorable man, Mr. Darcy. We will see each other again."

He stared at her for a moment longer before he slightly bowed; the movement was too small to garner attention. There, among the cheer and the sound of marching footsteps, she found her own joy and believed he would return. As he turned to look ahead, the back of his hand brushed hers. This was not farewell; it was until they saw each other again.

* * *

 **AN: Thank you so much for the reviews, alerts and favorites! I really appreciate hearing from you. :) This is one of my favorite chapters so far, and I hope you enjoyed it!**


	10. Chapter 10

**The Letter**

 **Chapter 10**

Caroline Bingley flew up into a sitting position with her heart pounding. _It was just a dream, just a dream_ , she told herself, her grip tightening on the covers. Loosening her hold, she raised one trembling hand to her chest and placed it over her rapidly beating heart. As pain from another time surged forth through the fresh memory of the nightmare, she closed her eyes tightly and tried to calm her breathing.

 _Not enough, not enough_ , echoed through her thoughts. Her body asking for more air was in tune with the voice from the past. With her other hand still holding the covers, she tried to focus on the texture against her skin. Then, she tried to think of the pattern on the material before focusing on the silence around her. The only thing she heard was her own breathing. Slowly, she opened her eyes and climbed out of the bed, moving to the window to open the curtains.

There was something to be said for the quiet country; the absence of activity brought stillness. However, too much of it gave her more time with her thoughts, which only drove her to return to higher society. As she looked out the window, she thought about the contrasting views of the Ton and those of the country, for the latter was much more relaxed. It irked her how they disregarded what had been instilled in her from a young age—how to behave in society.

Her mind wandered to the Bennets and something in her rose at the thought of them reaching higher than they should. Her hand clenched as her mind circled around the fact that, when it came down to it, Mr. Bennet was landed gentry, where the Bingleys were not. Even if she wore the highest quality gown and had superior manners, a country miss was still higher on some levels.

With a grunt of frustration, Caroline turned away and began to pace in front of her bed. It was the same old tale no matter where she went. Her family's fortune opened certain doors for her, but the other girls at school never accepted her. As she grew older and entered society, young gentlemen were drawn to her, but she wasn't considered by those she wanted to notice her—the peerage. Not even her twenty thousand pound dowry could make them forget her connections. It was never enough.

It was as if her family fortune provided entry, but it was in a cage, for she could only view those who moved freely. The sons of the higher positioned gentry did not consider her, either, except for those with reputations as squanderers. _Their_ connections could not make up for the cloud of ill repute around them, and the rest were of too low standing to be considered. As for the daughters of the first circles, those who came out with her, their smiles tended to have a glacial edge to it. Never warm, never truly accepting. If her gown was not up the standards of theirs, they looked down on her. If her gown was more exquisite than theirs, then resentment could be seen in their eyes. More than one condescending look had left a deep mark.

There was a constant cycle of trying to fit in, attempting to be accepted as one of them. Placing her hand on the bedpost, Caroline looked up with determination—she planned to change all of that. If not for her, then for the children she hoped to have one day. The Darcy name, along with its connection to an earldom, would open doors for them that were shut to her. An insignificant country miss would not keep her from all she ever wanted—acceptance.

~P&P~

Fitzwilliam Darcy sat in Netherfield Park's breakfast room, feeling the eagerness to leave like a fire burning beneath him. However, when Bingley had heard that he would be absent for an unknown time, he insisted on his friend being nourished for the journey. Not only that, but Bingley woke up much earlier than usual to wish him safe travels.

Darcy watched as Bingley wiped over his eyes again, struggling with the early hour even as he sat there ready for the day. He couldn't help but wonder if Bingley had been half asleep when his valet dressed him.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Bingley. I know that this is not what we discussed, but I will endeavor to return shortly."

The younger man waved his hand to dismiss any concerns. "It is I who must thank you. You have been a great help to me, and I hope you know that you are more than welcome to return at any time. I do hope nothing grievous is pulling you away so soon, though."

"It is more precautionary than critical at this time." Darcy hesitated; he had not revealed all that occurred to Bingley, but his friend knew it had involved George Wickham and that he had endangered someone in the family. "It has to do with last spring."

Bingley straightened and the last hold of sleep slipped away. "Wickham?"

Darcy nodded gravely. "Yes. I fear the situation was not properly dealt with and could affect the future."

"Of course, you must go," Bingley immediately replied.

"Who must go?" Miss Bingley asked as she entered the breakfast room.

The gentlemen immediately stood due to ingrained reaction, though her brother appeared startled. "Caroline, I did not expect you to see you this early. Is everything all right? You like tired."

With a hand halfway to her face, she paused and glared at Bingley. "I assure you I am fine, brother. Now what is this I hear of leaving? Have you finally come to your senses?" She picked up a cup of tea and turned to the table.

"We are not departing from the neighborhood," he began, returning to the plate in front of him. "Though Darcy is. He informed me last night that he has business in London to attend to and will be leaving this morning."

The clattering of fine porcelain filled the air, causing the gentlemen to look at the shaky cup on the saucer as she moved to sit opposite Darcy. "Business in London, you say?" Her voice was as unstable as the cup as she sat it down on the table, and it contained a note of barely suppressed excitement. "How long will you be gone, Mr. Darcy?"

He watched her for a moment, suspecting the direction of her thoughts as she tried to control her emotions. "It is difficult to say at the moment, Miss Bingley." Then, he added to ensure that she had no notion regarding certain settlements, "It could be months."

It worked—the words acted like a drainage trench for expectancy. "Months?" Her voice was slightly louder than her normally trained tone, beginning to climb in the direction of her possibly glass shattering pitch. She quickly turned to Bingley. "Then, we must close the house and depart as well. There is simply no good reason to remain."

Bingley calmly continued to eat, barely looking up as he replied, "Darcy is not the reason why we are here, Caroline. We are staying." Then, he smiled. "Besides, I can think of a very good reason three miles away."

Miss Bingley's countenance spoke louder than words—she did not consider that a _good_ reason. Then, her expression changed to that of a concerned sister. "Perhaps that is precisely why we need to go—distance will give clarity. It would not be right to give sweet Miss Bennet hope, only for your head to be turned by another beauty when the Season comes."

She turned to Darcy. "Do you not agree, Mr. Darcy?"

He paused before he addressed Bingley. He had every hope to return as soon as he could, but he also knew he had to consider others—Bingley could not stay so that the house remained open for his return. Furthermore, Miss Jane Bennet had to be considered, for his friend could not simply leave if he had created expectation. Darcy proceeded to respond with caution. "Whether you stay or leave is for you to decide, but I still believe this is an excellent opportunity for you, Bingley. As for the matter regarding Miss Bennet, I agree with your sister to a certain point. Be careful not to create expectation if what you feel will pass."

Miss Bingley turned to her brother triumphantly, her countenance revealing her certainty that they would be leaving. Thus, she began to rise from her chair. "I will speak with Mrs. Nichols and my maid—"

"I said we are not leaving, Caroline," Bingley interrupted her with a firm tone. Then, he turned to his friend. "I hear your concern, Darcy, and it is noted. However, I also know I have never met anyone with a sweeter disposition than Miss Bennet. It is a rarity to discover beauty from within along with outward loveliness. I hope to continue getting to know Miss Bennet."

Darcy nodded at him and stood. "As long as you take care. There is also the matter of her mother to consider—she might feel pressured into accepting your suit."

Bingley appeared stunned by the thought. "Do you think that is a possibility?"

"Absolutely, Charles," Miss Bingley commented with eagerness. However, one look from her brother silenced anything else she wanted to say.

"It is not that I think she is indifferent to you," Darcy began, walking along the table before stopping next to Bingley. "I am merely suggesting that you get to know her, while also finding a way to guide Mrs. Bennet's attention away from you. It will be difficult to see with Mrs. Bennet overhead like a thundercloud."

Comprehension dawned and a shy smile appeared on Bingley's face. "Any suggestions on how I should go about that?"

"While the weather permits, walks to Meryton may present you with what you need." Darcy glanced at Miss Bingley. "I hear her sisters will be visiting their aunt often with the militia present in town."

Miss Bingley's cheeks tinted, and he could not help but add, "Your brother may be right, Miss Bingley; you do not appear well. It would not be advisable for you to travel before you have recovered. I thank you for your hospitality."

With a bow in her direction, Mr. Darcy left the room and Mr. Bingley followed him. "Darcy," his friend called out as they walked through the entrance hall.

Stopping, he turned towards Bingley and saw a severe look on his friend's face. It was not often that the jovial expression wasn't present in some way. "I may not know the particulars, but I hope the problem is resolved speedily," Bingley said.

"Thank you." Darcy nodded respectfully. "If all goes well, I will return soon."

As Darcy walked through the doors and out to the waiting carriage, his hand reached into his coat pocket and he felt the delicate material of a handkerchief. Yes, he would return as soon as he could.

In his other pocket, he carried a letter, though not the one that frequented his thoughts. No, the letter in his pocket was from his cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam; he believed he knew how to find Wickham.

~P&P~

Nearly a fortnight after the assembly, Elizabeth stood on a hill overlooking a road in the distance. The early morning chill nipped at her nose and ears, but she did not pay attention to the sensation. With her arms wrapped around her, she stared at the road in hope of seeing Mr. Darcy's carriage departing from the neighborhood.

The early morning brought the ambiance of a dream, as if all that had occurred would disappear in the light of a new day. She relived the moment that Mr. Darcy's hand had brushed the back of hers, almost feeling the sensation repeating, and she held onto the thread to assure herself of its reality. A laugh bubbled to the surface as she remembered the keepsake he had with him. It was the most unexpected gesture, and was it not for the fact that she would feel foolish doing so, she might have counted her handkerchiefs to make sure one was missing.

Having learned about his connections—and knowing the expectations there must be for him—she had enjoyed his company but had not dared to hope for a gesture such as the one he asked for. As the overcast day obscured even the few rays that wanted to break through, her mind wandered to the reason for his departure. It couldn't be an insignificant issue, for he couldn't say when he would be back. With that, she wondered when she would see him again. It was as she had been given glimpse of what could be, and then it was placed at some unknown point further down the path of her life. She would wait. She had hope, and as she held onto it, she wondered what it would have felt like if he had left without a word of promise. Hurt began to drip into a steady stream through her heart, thus she pushed the thought aside with the hope she held onto.

She remembered the moment the previous day, and the cool wind brushed over her lips as if to say the secret should be guarded. No one had noticed the exchange, and she was not inclined to tell them, especially with him leaving. There was a very good chance that her mother would share her hope with the neighborhood—that he left to take care of the marriage settlement papers. Elizabeth did not believe that was the case. She knew there was another reason behind his departure. No, she would have to endure her mother's nerves, which were sure to be unconfined, but she wouldn't say what had transpired. Like the letters in her wardrobe, she wanted to keep this treasured piece to herself. She wanted the memory unmarred, and she did not want pitying gazes if it took him weeks or even months to return.

With that, her mind wandered to the letter she had begun to write the previous night, and she wished she could sit where she was and write; her emotions were in turmoil and giving expression to them through the written word always helped.

Unable to do so at that moment, she kept her gaze on the road in the distance as the words began to form in her heart, waiting to flow with ink onto a page. Though the page was still blank, the words were there.

 _Dear future husband,_

 _When will you take my hand again and step beside me to dance? You were not there, and in a moment, you appeared and took my hand. Now, I find myself searching, but you are not to be found. Return to me so that we may dance, so I may know if my hand will be in yours for our journey through this life._

 _Elizabeth_

* * *

 **AN: I'm so glad I'm able to share this chapter on the last day of the year. I wanted to thank you again for the amazing response this story has received! Thank you for your part in a very special year. I wish you a blessed New Year! Until next year :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**The Letter**

 **Chapter 11**

… _When it comes to my only older sister, Jane, I do not feel the same need to prepare you. She is the kindest and loveliest creature you will ever meet. There are times that I am inclined to believe that she possesses all of the forbearance that the five of us were meant to share. I do believe Jane was born so beautiful for the purpose of distraction; if a son was not meant to be, at least Mamma has her eldest to look to for hope. Jane bears the attention with grace and dignity, and she continues to look for the best in every person she meets. She does not often reveal the depth of her emotion, but as the eldest, I believe her sense of duty is in part responsible. If I could give her one thing, it would be love in marriage. Her heart of gold deserves to be found beneath her beauty. …_

Fitzwilliam Darcy pondered parts of Elizabeth's letter as the carriage took him away from her. His time in Hertfordshire had not been long when compared to greater lapses of time, but he did not feel like the same man who had arrived. He was leaving with purpose, where he had arrived with the dual intent of helping a friend while also moving forward from a near tragic event.

He found himself considering the letter. When he had been entangled by the thought of what had almost happened to Georgiana, he found comfort in Elizabeth's words; her honesty touched the part of him that felt betrayed by the one had been like a brother to him. The betrayal had caused Darcy to draw back even further, for he had never been a peacock among society to begin with. Wickham had stained his view with people reaching for fortune above all else. If not for the letter, Darcy knew his reaction would have been very different that night at the assembly. The letter had reached beyond his own situation, turning his attention to those around him.

When he thought of Bingley and Miss Bennet, there was little to no doubt that Darcy would not have looked past Miss Bennet's reserved nature. Surprisingly, he saw parts of himself in her as the eldest, and the letter was the cause.

The letter also made him think back to the day he learned that he was to become an older brother. There was a protective love in Elizabeth's words, even as she warned the one she hoped would become part of her family. It fed the love and responsibility he felt toward his sister, especially since the nightmare regarding Georgiana was still with him—her desperation in the dream would not be soon forgotten. As much as he hoped to see her soon, he was grateful that she was visiting his uncle and aunt at Matlock Hall. He preferred that she was not in the same city as the man he was looking for.

As his thoughts turned to the reason for his departure, his hand found the handkerchief in his pocket and he knew a habit was forming. He thought of Elizabeth's eyes as the fabric touched his glove, knowing he had a very good reason to return as soon as he was able to. The promise of a future worth pursuing was waiting for him there. Though he had arrived in the neighborhood without even contemplating the idea of his heart being touched, he was departing with the sense that daybreak was not far away. It was just a little further ahead.

~P&P~

Elizabeth was not a naturally fearful person—she loved to laugh and find joy in moments too much for that. However, as she returned home after seeing a carriage depart, her mind wandered in the direction of her mother's reaction to the news. The dread was divided between her mother remaining in her room due to nerves, or her mother questioning her endlessly for anything she might have said that caused him to leave.

 _She most certainly will not hear it from me until it can no longer be avoided,_ Elizabeth thought as Longbourn came into view. Instead, she would savor the few moments of peace while they were still there. Happiness, however fleeting it might be at times, was not to be taken as a given.

As she neared the bridge that crossed the stream, with Longbourn in sight, the sound of a stick breaking caught her attention. Trepidation filled her as she stared at the large bush at the side of the road, wondering if she should investigate. No, she was not fearful. However, she preferred not to encounter a hog. She had never heard her quiet sister Jane quite as vocal as the time one burst forth from the undergrowth, right between her legs with her dress covering the poor animal's eyes. Thankfully, she did not get badly hurt, though Mrs. Bennet's cries were still sharp in memory. Her mother's greatest concern had been whether or not Jane's countenance was unscathed, which was understandable considering her hopes were built on Jane's beauty. Jane's outdoor expeditions were limited to walking paths after the incident.

Elizabeth's thoughts were interrupted when a muffled "oww" reached her. "Who goes there?" she called out.

All was quiet suddenly. Then, a figure wearing a brown cloak with the hood up slowly stood, and the dress visible beneath the outer material caused Elizabeth to guess the woman was a servant. Before she could speak to her, however, the mysterious woman quickly glanced at her and pushed a folded sheet of paper between the smaller branches of the bush. Elizabeth was distracted as it slipped and fell, landing on the morning dew covered ground.

When she looked up again, the woman was moving away at a fast pace, and Elizabeth considered pursuing her. However, she suspected the woman's purpose for being there was related to the paper. It was as if she had been waiting for Elizabeth. Though the latter's morning walks were no secret among the families in the neighborhood, it was rather strange for someone to deliver a note in such a manner.

Walking closer, Elizabeth knelt and reached for the paper. Curious, she turned the sheet over as she stood, and she was still surprised when the feeling was confirmed that the person had been waiting for her. The paper was a bit crinkled and a little damp, but the ink was not smudged badly. There was no doubt regarding the name in elegant script: _Elizabeth._

Elizabeth glanced around, but the mysterious woman had vanished from sight. When she looked back down at the paper, she saw her hands were shaking slightly. _How … I do not understand_ , she thought, her chest rising and failing quickly with each breath. Questions were filling her mind. She searched the area again, but only movement around Longbourn were visible in the distance.

Carefully unfolding the letter, her breath was shallow as she read the words.

 _Elizabeth,_

 _It is my dearest wish to call you by another name. Perhaps it would be appropriate to write them first. However, I find myself wanting to say them to you when I tell you of your precious gift to me. I was a man living in a shadowed world until I met you. I thank you for changing the view, for sharing who you are and not whom you thought would attract my notice. At the danger of sounding vain, even arrogant, the ballrooms of London are filled with presentation and the expectancy of society. The result is my family's name enters the room with a substantial presence, and I know all too well the weight of it. Your anger when I slighted your friend was a revelation, for you did not care for my consequence. Though I deeply regret that moment, I find I cannot regret what it revealed to me. I long to hear your thoughts, Elizabeth. If not for my sister, I would not be leaving. However, I have a responsibility towards her and my family. For me to come to you, I need to right certain matters. I realize this letter will not be read by you, but I have this faint hope that if I put my thoughts into words, somehow you will know them. It is my hope that my return will be swift._

 _Yours,_

 _Fitzwilliam Darcy_

With a rapidly beating heart, and knees that were threatening to fail her, Elizabeth looked around again as her fingers touched her lips. Along with all of the questions in her mind, her emotions were conflicted. As much as she wanted to delight in this unexpected letter, fear for her reputation was predominantly present. Someone had taken it upon themselves to deliver a letter that she was never meant to receive, and her reputation was in very real danger if word got out regarding the correspondence between them.

Who was the keeper of the secret? Not many would know of the letter's existence. Why did the woman bring it to her? Would she tell others? The questions continued to race through her mind.

Looking down, her fingers traced over her name before she hid the letter up her sleeve. Now was not the time to treasure his words to her. When it became clear that there was no talk among the neighborhood, her mother certainly could not know of its existence, then she would read it again. However, a little spark in her heart told her she would read his letter again and respond as soon as she was able to, even if her letter would remain hidden with the others.

~P&P~

The fragile peace lasted until that afternoon when Mr. Bingley arrived. While Mrs. Bennet admired the horse she had seen through the window, making sure her future son knew she was impressed, Elizabeth felt as though her stomach had twisted and folded in on itself. She was just waiting for the question. Then, it came.

Brushing the fold of her gown, Mrs. Bennet tried to appear uninterested as she asked, "How is Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley? I trust he is in good health."

"Oh, yes, I am sure he is." Mr. Bingley's eyes drifted to Jane even as he answered her mother. "He departed for London this morning."

"He what?!" she exclaimed, startling the gentleman. Then, she coughed and took as sip of tea. "What I meant to say is, we were not aware his visit to the neighborhood was for such a short duration."

Elizabeth observed her mother warily, noticing the red blotches appearing on her neck and face. The nerves were boiling beneath the surface.

"I believe he has matters to attend to, but he hopes to return at a later time." Mr. Bingley appeared concerned as he watched Mrs. Bennet.

"Oh, you expect him to return." The matriarch laughed and used a fan to cool herself. "How lovely. I hope he is planning to return before the winter sets in. Traveling the countryside can be much more difficult that time of year."

Elizabeth continued to keep an eye on her mother, knowing her mother was searching for a date—whether or not her nerves settled depended on it.

"I suspect he will spend late December with his sister at Matlock Hall. Perhaps in the new year we will see him again." He turned to Jane and said, "We, however, are remaining here during that time."

The gentleman could not have said anything better, a part from a proposal, to distract Mrs. Bennet. As Elizabeth looked at her, she could see her calming, though there was also a contemplative expression on the matriarch's face.

"Mr. Bingley, your sister said that you often spend time at Pemberley. Is it as beautiful as it is described?" Mrs. Bennet appeared at ease as she took a sip of tea, which made Elizabeth nervous—her mother was planning something.

"More so, Mrs. Bennet. As my sister would say, it is unlikely that there is a place more grand or magnificent. We have had the privilege to spend time there, yes." He turned to say something to Jane, but Mrs. Bennet spoke first.

"That is wonderful. Do you have plans to visit the family in the new year?"

"Not for the foreseeable future, no," he answered. Then, before Mrs. Bennet could say something else, he continued. "If the suggestion meets Miss Bennet's approval, may we go for a walk in the garden?"

Lydia began to laugh, though quickly pressed a treat into her mouth when her mother looked at her. Elizabeth knew what her sister must have been thinking—with their mother occupying his attention, he hardly managed two words to the one he came to see.

"Of course!" Mrs. Bennet smiled at them. "Elizabeth, you should join them. Your appreciation for the landscape is infectious."

Elizabeth stood with another guarded look at her mother. Either her mother wanted her to guide the couple she still had hope for on a long walk, or her mother was beginning to hint her daughter would appreciate an invite to see Derbyshire. She had a feeling it was both.

As Elizabeth walked behind the couple, giving them enough space to talk in private, her mind wandered to the letter. Something in her heart pulled at the thought of Derbyshire, though under different circumstances. The thought of her mother forcing an invitation was mortifying, and even worse than that was the thought of being in carriage with Caroline Bingley. It was not hard to imagine Miss Bingley alluding to the manner of the invite at every conceivable turn. The word unpleasant came to mind when thinking about a trip under those conditions.

~P&P~

"I despise the country, Charles," Caroline Bingley complained as she reached her brother. She'd seen him depart through a window and had rushed to join him, which meant she was not wearing proper walking attire. It was doubtful that her slippers would survive the venture. However, the thought of her brother alone on a road with the Bennets—for she knew that was where he was heading—was a recipe for a compromise that she would not risk. As it was, he had already slipped out from under her attention the day before. No, she would not tolerate a whiff of rumors that could result in a marriage.

"Why do you not return to Netherfield, Caroline?" He glanced over his shoulder but did not slow his eager pace. "I shall not be gone long, unless I am invited to dinner."

Her brow rose and she increased her speed into a very unlady-like stride. She quickly looked around, but no one was nearby to witness her out of character behavior. Struggling not to sound too winded, she grasped her brother's arm and forced him to walk slower. "It would be failure on my part if I did not join you. It is a lovely day."

 _Not that the two statements are related_ , Caroline thought. She'd found that people often heard what they wanted to if a person said just enough. Her brother gave her a suspicious glance, though she pretended not to notice. "Can we not follow the path at least, Charles? Drudging through the field is not considered a nice stroll through nature."

"This is a shorter route." He sighed. "However, if you insist on joining me, let us change course."

It wasn't long until they encountered a fence, and Caroline gestured impatiently at a small opening between two wooden posts. "Do you expect me to climb up and through there?"

"There is always the shorter path," her brother replied, sounding both amused and exasperated.

Glaring at him, Caroline placed one hand on the post and with the other she lifted her dress slightly. The delicate material already showed signs of wear, causing her jaw to clench her at the sight. Her feet hurt in the slippers that were never intended for the outdoors, and with a flare of irritation, she pulled herself up and jumped down the other side. The sound of tearing immediately resounded, so she looked back and saw a small part of her gown's material flapping in the wind on a nail. It was as if it said she should surrender. However, her temper simply reached new heights, thus she released a cry of frustration.

When Bingley joined her, she glared at him. "I am not fit to see people. I demand that we find the road and return to Netherfield Park immediately."

He met her stare with a deep frown before turning away without a word. He had little choice but to escort her back, though he fully intended to leave again.

As Caroline followed, she stared at his back and wished she could push him in a carriage and simply depart from the neighborhood.

"Someone is coming this way," he announced.

Curious, while also dreading anyone seeing her in such a state, Caroline moved to his side and suddenly froze for two reasons—the first was due to a gentleman in a red coat on the back of a horse, and the second was for the suspicious matter around and over her foot. As if to confirm the awful thought in her mind, she heard an animal and saw a cow not far from them near the fence.

"Charles."

"He must have heard your scream. It would be best if you hid that side of your dress behind me. The tear is not scandalous, but we do not want talk, do we?" His voice sounded firm.

Feeling nauseous, Caroline pressed her hand to her chest and extracted her foot from the mud. She kept telling herself it was mud, even though the truth was too loud to be ignored. "Then I suggest you stand on my right. I fear I cannot move freely at the moment."

"Why?" The rest remained unspoken as he looked down at her feet. "Oh, that's …" He looked away, and she wasn't sure if he was also nauseous or whether his shoulders were moving for another reason.

"Are you laughing, Charles?" She was livid. She was about to clean her foot on his boot when the officer approached, causing Bingley to quickly move to her other side while avoiding certain dangers on the ground.

"Colonel," Bingley greeted him and nodded.

Caroline quickly looked up, unaware that her temper had resulted in a blush on her cheeks. The whole situation only caused it to deepen as Colonel Forster drop to the ground and approached with his eyes on her. He looked immaculate, while she felt like she had been caught in a strong wind.

Removing his hat, he bowed and said, "Mr. Bingley." Then, the most astonishing thing happened; he pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve and took a step closer to her. "I believe this is yours, Miss Bingley."

She gently took the handkerchief and stared at the monogram embroidered in the corner, while Bingley introduced them with a bit of clumsiness—it was an unusual situation. Stepping on the seed of disappointment that landed in her heart, Caroline looked up and handed the handkerchief back to the Colonel. "I am afraid that is not mine, Colonel. I believe you are searching for Catherine Bennet. My initials are _C. E. B._ "

He only hesitated a moment before pulling a second handkerchief from his other sleeve. "Then this one belongs to you, Miss Bingley."

She was rather stunned as she accepted her handkerchief and watched as he deeply bowed. "It is an honor to meet you, Miss Bingley," he said.

Her curtsy in response was an ingrained response, and she even forgot about her dirty shoe. At least, until that moment when the sensation around her foot reminded her all was not well. When she quickly looked down and saw traces on her gown as well, she blushed as embarrassment covered her.

Colonel Forster looked between brother and sister before settling his gaze on the former. "I was on my way to Netherfield Park when I heard a scream. I trust everything is all right?"

Bingley nodded. "Yes, my sister did not mean to alarm you. She joined me for a walk, and her dress got caught on the fence I am afraid. Fortunately, the damage is not great."

"I see." His gaze remained locked on him, occasionally moving to Miss Bingley before glancing behind them at the fence.

Bingley cleared his throat and took a step closer. "It would be appreciated if the matter remained between us. I do not want to cause my sister any further humiliation."

The handsome colonel nodded after searching her countenance once more. "That is understandable. Do not fear, Miss Bingley. No one will know a delicate beauty such as yourself ventured outdoors on this fine day." He hesitated before he continued. "Do not feel obligated due to my knowledge. However, as the receiver of your token, may I ask for a dance at the party to be held at Lucas Lodge?"

Caroline narrowed her eyes slightly and lifted her chin. "Receiver? You did not find it?"

Colonel Forster looked down and there were clear signs that he had been caught. With an awkward smile—she loathed admitting that it affected her heart—he met her gaze. "A few of my officers looked for it, Miss Bingley."

With a brow lifted, she nearly smiled as she nodded. "You may ask for the dance, Colonel Forster." She was flattered. How could she not be?

He smiled and departed not long after that. However, she began to regret the choice when she turned to her brother and saw an even bigger expression of happiness. "Whatever you are thinking, Charles, forget it. It is one dance. I must occupy my time somehow while Mr. Darcy is away."

However, if she was honest with herself, the other man had not entered her mind while the colonel stood before her. She did not allow herself to linger on that thought, glaring instead at the cow—she blamed the mess around her foot for distracting her. There was no other reason, though she decided Bingley was also at fault for causing them to be out there in the first place. Still, she kept the handkerchief separately, and it was not found among the things that the maid washed.

* * *

 **AN: I had so much writing this chapter! I think it may be another one of my favorites. :) Thank you so much for your patience. We are now officially in the "when possible" part regarding updates. My current work schedule doesn't allow a lot of time for writing, so thanks again for your patience.**

 **I'm amazed that this story has crossed the thousand followers mark! Thank you for every review, alert and favorite. I appreciate all of the support. Thanks for reading!**


	12. Chapter 12

**The Letter**

 **Chapter 12**

"Mamma, this is not fair!" Lydia complained, following her mother down the hall into Jane's room, where Elizabeth was helping with her hair. Kitty trailed behind quietly with regret visible on her countenance.

"Do not speak to me of what is not fair, Lydia Bennet!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. "You and Kitty will not attend the party at Lucas Lodge and that is the last word of it. Only one reason comes to mind when I wonder why Mr. Darcy suddenly left the neighborhood—your behavior at dinner. That must have been it. As a result of your actions, you have robbed this family of our best prospects! What if your father were to breathe his last this very night?"

The older woman's fingers trembled against her lips. "I cannot even think about it. No, the decision has been made. You must bear the consequences of your actions, and I will not have you endanger Jane's match to Mr. Bingley."

"But, Mamma," Lydia began. "We have already been punished! You cannot take this from us as well. The officers will be there! I do not want to hear from Maria Lucas how well the colonel looked."

"Cannot?" Mrs. Bennet approached her youngest. "As you were told, you are to stay here and read. What we _cannot_ have is for you to endanger this family's future."

"We said we would do no more, Mamma. Please, we want to go," Kitty begged, holding her hands beneath her chin.

"Go see your father. He must have a book on proper behavior for a lady." Mrs. Bennet turned her back to her youngest daughters, her hands gesturing nervously. "Oh, the mere reminder of what you did is affecting my nerves. I cannot help your sister if I am not calm."

No matter how much Lydia and Kitty tried, even as the Bennets were heading out the door, Mrs. Bennet was not to be swayed. Every time she thought about that dinner and Mr. Darcy leaving, her hands touched her mouth as if she was holding back tears. Elizabeth, on the other hand, felt conflicted—it was within her means to tell her mother she had hope. However, her mother's reaction to the news and the party before them ensured that her lips remained closed. Yet, at the same time, she could feel her mother's desperation to ensure their future and felt compassion, especially since she could see the burden weighing on Jane. She needed to talk to her sister.

~P&P~

One could never predict how an event would turn out. Without her younger sisters to keep an eye on, Elizabeth determined that she would try to contain her mother's single minded pursuit—though with dual goals—of Mr. Bingley. Mrs. Bennet tended to dominate the conversation, and Elizabeth knew the two people needed time to talk among themselves.

As they entered Lucas Lodge and were received, Mrs. Bennet curtsied and smiled at Lady Lucas. "Have the Bingley party arrived yet? It is such a shame Mr. Darcy had to depart from the neighborhood. He did prefer my Lizzy, you know."

"Mr. Darcy is no longer at Netherfield?" Lady Lucas inquired. At the sight of Mrs. Bennet's satisfied smile—for she appeared closer to the residents of Netherfield—Lady Lucas immediately sought to correct her error. "Yes, of course, we were very sad to see him go. However, you must be feeling it even more severely, if he indeed preferred Elizabeth's company."

Mrs. Bennet frowned before quickly recovering—her tight smile returned. "We believe we will see him again. Very soon, I should say." Then, she glanced at Jane by her side.

The eldest Bennet daughter blushed and looked down at the floor, causing Elizabeth to step closer, gently prompting her mother to continue with slight pressure to her side. It was a relief to enter the room where many were already gathered, and as time passed, the sight of red became heavily sprinkled throughout. The sight reminded Elizabeth of her younger sisters at home. As Grandfather Bennet had looked upon a heavily laden table with food, so her sisters would have observed the visual feast before them.

Mary echoed her thoughts as she said, "For the sake of our peace, perhaps we should describe the evening in the vaguest terms. Stirring jealousy would not promote the goodness of familial well-being."

Elizabeth laughed and placed her arm through Mary's. "Well said, sister, well said. Perhaps we should aid the family further this evening?"

Mary glanced at her. "In what way?"

"I believe Jane is in need of our assistance. I have been trying to keep Mamma too busy to interfere."

"Hmm …" Mary kept her posture straight as she looked around the room. "Within the boundaries of propriety, of course."

"Of course," Elizabeth responded and steered her sister toward their mother. "When Jane is not dancing, then we need to keep an eye on Mamma. With her speaking so much to Mr. Bingley, the poor man is probably experiencing difficulty concentrating. I am tempted to wonder if she is planning to convince him he has already proposed."

"Lizzy!" Mary frowned at her. "You should not say such a thing."

Before Elizabeth could respond, she heard a voice behind her that she did not wish to hear.

"Oh, that sounds interesting," Miss Bingley said with a haughty tone. As the sisters turned around, Elizabeth saw the corner of the woman's mouth was turned up in a smile that matched her voice. "What were you saying, Eliza?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath, tightening her hold on Mary when it felt as if her sister was about to leave. "I was just thinking if one voice carries on for too long, those listening will become accustomed to it in such a way that it will fade into other sounds."

Miss Bingley arched a brow. "It would depend on the voice, dear Eliza. Mr. Darcy certainly has a very pleasant voice, and I, for one, have never felt it necessary to complain of hearing it too much."

"Yes," Elizabeth began. "He is a man of few words, and when he speaks, what he says certainly captures the listener's attention, does it not?" She felt Mary's elbow to her side, though she ignored it. From what she had seen, she wholeheartedly believed Miss Bingley had never had a conversation long enough with Mr. Darcy for her mind to wander. Or her mind had wandered, simply not on the matter they were discussing.

Miss Bingley frowned and there was a brief flash of uncertainty on her countenance. Then, a conniving look appeared and her chin lifted slightly. "His betrothed is certainly fortunate, is she not? He is an attentive listener and his opinion is highly valued."

Everything around Elizabeth faded away as her chest felt constricted due to shock. Even though her immediate reaction was to think it could not be true, it must have been the last thing she ever expected to hear Miss Bingley say. "Betrothed?"

Miss Bingley smiled. "Yes. There is an … understanding between him and his cousin, Anne."

Recovering, Elizabeth stared intently at the woman before her; she had caught Miss Bingley's hesitation as she thought how to best phrase it. It was all Elizabeth needed to reaffirm the thought that it could not be true, and she would not doubt his honor. With the letter in her possession, and her handkerchief in his, Elizabeth's chin lifted slightly and her gaze was steady. "Forgive me, Miss Bingley, but I was not aware that ladies of the Ton set their caps for betrothed gentlemen."

The fashionably dressed woman gasped almost audibly as her lips parted. With her own words, she had placed herself in a difficult position due to her actions at the assembly; it had been clear she wanted the neighborhood to believe there was an understanding between her and Mr. Darcy.

"As I said, there is an understanding. An announcement is yet to be made," Miss Bingley replied with a firm set around her mouth. Then, a tight smile appeared on her face. "I have not yet had the pleasure of seeing your younger sisters this evening. Are they not here?"

At the change in subject matter, Elizabeth's tight grip on Mary's arm relaxed. She did not feel the desire to be at odds with Miss Bingley in the middle of a party, thus she was relieved that the other woman relented.

"They are at home with books," Elizabeth responded, keeping her tone light. Her sisters were at home, there were books, and their mother had told them to read. Whether they were actually doing it was a different question, but Miss Bingley had only asked where they were.

"How delightful." Insincerity rang in Miss Bingley's voice as displeasure flickered across her face. It was not difficult to guess the reason—she had hoped to bring their behavior to her brother's attention. With that chance removed, she curtsied and said, "If you will excuse me."

The two sisters quickly returned the curtsy, and Elizabeth's posture relaxed further as Miss Bingley walked away. Turning to Mary beside her, she asked, "Are you all right?"

"Yes. I was only thinking …" Mary looked at her sister. "Do you believe Jane truly likes Mr. Bingley?"

"I think so." Elizabeth stared quizzically at her. "Why do you ask?"

As usual, Mary's voice was solemn as she spoke. "It is going to take some time adjusting to Miss Bingley becoming a sister."

"Now _there_ is a thought. For the sake of Jane's happiness, we will have to endure." Elizabeth suppressed a grimace as her mind conjured images of a possible future. In an attempt to look towards the immediate future, she glanced around in search of their mother instead. When she saw her, she began to guide Mary in that direction. "Come. That merry day may only come to pass if we help our dear sister."

~P&P~

The evening was not going well. Caroline felt a silent scream in her chest as she watched her brother dancing with Jane Bennet. Oh, the girl was perfectly lovely. However, the connection would not improve their family's standing, and Caroline thought she was the only one who cared. She wondered why Charles did not consider his descendants—they had a duty towards them to remove themselves from trade as far as possible, not marry into it. Or nearly, since the connection was by way of Mrs. Bennet.

"Why is the loveliest woman here hiding in an alcove?" asked a voice behind her. A voice she had been thinking of, if she had to be honest. Her heart's metaphorical leap only confirmed that it was Colonel Forster.

Turning around, she curtsied and hoped she appeared unaffected. "Colonel. And I am not hiding. I simply wish to avoid unwanted conversation."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "I do hope that does not include me, Miss Bingley."

She felt a traitorous blush appear, and then she narrowed her eyes slightly at the sight of two young ladies watching the colonel. "It would seem others are hoping for you to join them, so perhaps I should say you are included," she replied, turning back to him.

He placed his hand over his heart as if he had been wounded, though his smile remained. "Are you going to throw me out there instead of taking me under your protection?"

She could not help but to raise an eyebrow at his response. "Why do you require protection, and why do you need mine?"

His smile faded, and suddenly it felt as if he could see straight into her. "I may be mistaken, but I believe you dropped your handkerchief before anyone else. You looked right at me before you dropped it. Would it be foolish of a man to wish that a woman of your standing has noticed him?"

Caroline's eyes widened a fraction, and she opened her mouth to say something, only to find herself speechless. "I … I…" She had not dropped her handkerchief with any designs. However, he was the first man to look at her as if she was a treasure. Oh, certainly others of lower standing had approached, but their gazes were filled with her rumored dowry.

Finally, she managed to say, "In all honesty, that had not been my intention. However, we can at least have that dance you asked for, Colonel Forster." It took a lot of nerve, but she moved and took his arm.

As they moved towards the dancers, where the next dance was about to begin, he leaned down and said, "You are bold, Miss Bingley. I can appreciate a brave heart."

She glanced up, looking away when she saw he was watching her. "No more than you, Colonel. I would not have expected you to speak of my intentions." A small smile turned up the corners of her mouth. "Perhaps I should have, though. After all, you did seek my handkerchief."

~P&P~

Silence filled the study at Darcy House in London as Mr. Darcy stared at his cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. He was sure his ears were deceiving him. However, when the silence lingered after his cousin's suggestion, Darcy was forced to process that Richard meant the inconceivable idea. "You want to involve an outside party knowing this situation relates to Georgiana?"

His cousin lowered himself in the chair on the other side of the desk. Though he appeared at ease, the lines around his mouth showed he was taking the matter very seriously. "Unless you want to spend Easter alone with Aunt Catherine, we are going to need help finding Wickham. I have to return to my regiment soon. The way I see it, the marquess has done half the work for us, and we must remember, Wickham is a man who does not want to be found."

Standing, Darcy moved around the desk towards the fireplace. He stared at the cold, dark hearth and considered his options. "There is someone who might know his whereabouts—Mrs. Younge." He loathed speaking her name.

The sound of movement came from the chair, and Darcy looked back to see Richard was leaning forward. "Is she even still in London?"

Darcy's voice sounded cold as he spoke. "With no reference, I doubt there is another place where she has gone."

"The hour is late. We can try in the morning." His cousin stood and began to move towards the door.

"Richard, perhaps we ought to go now. With every hour passing, who knows where he might slither to?"

Concern entered his cousin's gaze. "Why is this matter so pressing? Darcy, what are you not saying? Is … is there a situation regarding Georgiana?"

"No!" Darcy wiped a hand over his face, turning back to the dark fireplace. Lit wall sconces were the only light in the room, as he felt no desire to sit by a fire. "Thankfully, it is not that. While in Hertfordshire, I had a nightmare. I should not have allowed him to get away after what he attempted to do."

"He snuck away while you were attending to your sister. You are not to blame."

Darcy turned around quickly. "It is exactly that point that concerns me. When he learned that her dowry would remain out of his reach, why did he leave? Why did he not attempt extortion?"

Even in the low light, the change in Richard's expression was clearly visible. "You believe he is a danger to her first Season? Of course. As a Darcy, many eyes will be on her, many will contend for her hand."

"There are acquaintances from our school days that would be susceptible to his lies, and they would give the rumors credence as they share what they heard. I will not tolerate anyone speaking of my sister in such a way." Darcy paused before he continued. "Though he might make his reappearance during her first Season, I also suspect he will resurface with the announcement in the papers regarding my wedding."

"Your …" Richard trailed off and returned to the chair, stunned. "Have you acquiesced to Aunt Catherine's wishes, or who is this lady who managed to do what those of the Ton could not? Or is she part of them? When did you even find time to manage this?"

Darcy felt amused at his cousin's reaction. With the corner of his mouth lifting slightly, he replied, "I found a rose in Hertfordshire. She is unlike anyone else I have ever met."

Richard's eyebrows lifted as his eyes widened. "That is high praise. Have you offered for her?"

Darcy thought back to the handkerchief, and his hand almost reached for it inside his pocket. However, he restrained himself and answered, "Not formally, no. She is part of the reason why I want to take care of this matter so quickly."

A laugh escaped from his cousin before he composed himself. However, amusement was audible in his voice when he said, "I must ask that you wait until I have returned to my regiment before telling Aunt Catherine. I do not wish to encounter that experience. Now, tell me the name of this lovely creature. She must be exquisite."

"Her name is Elizabeth Bennet." There was a deep timbre to Darcy's voice as he spoke as if to himself, "And her eyes reveal her soul."

~P&P~

It was a very late hour as Elizabeth sat on her bed with Mr. Darcy's letter, reading it again for what felt like the hundredth time. The light of the candelabra swayed gently as she thought about him. How long would it be until she saw his face again? As Jane had smiled at Mr. Bingley during a dance, Elizabeth had remembered the first movement she had danced with Mr. Darcy, during his dance with Miss Bingley. The feeling of missing him was new, yet felt familiar at the same time—as if that part had always been there.

Standing, Elizabeth moved to her wardrobe and stowed the letter once again. Instead of covering the lockbox with unwanted ribbons and other pieces of material, her hands lingered on the letters. They contained so many of her experiences, telling her story. Remembering the first letter, she wondered again what happened to it. She recalled hiding it in the desk, along with the little stories she had written while Ginny was ill. Sadly, it had gone missing somewhere between giving the miniature collection of tales to Ginny, Mrs. Morris having the desk cleared for her own use, and then the change of the drawing room furnishings.

Closing the lid, her thumbs traced the front edge of the lockbox with a small smile. She wondered what the letters to come would say. The thought filled her with joy and anticipation, and it was inevitable for her thoughts to wander to Mr. Darcy. She hoped she would see him again soon.

* * *

 **AN: Thank you very much for the reviews, alerts and favorites! I hope you enjoyed the chapter. :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**The Letter**

 **Chapter 13**

Dirty water splashed in different directions as a boot landed in the middle of the murky puddle. Mr. Darcy did not take notice, however, as he strode with purpose to a door in a neighborhood of ill repute. His cousin, who was following him, sidestepped a suspicious heap, and he held his hand over his nose in an attempt to keep the dank smell at bay.

"I feel that we should have brought your footmen with us, Darcy," Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam said to his cousin, who never wavered in front of him.

"I thought that is why you came along," Mr. Darcy responded drily, glancing back.

"On my honor, I will defend you from the rats. However, I am more concerned with the human variety who will soon be crawling around here." Colonel Fitzwilliam looked around him, observing that the streets and alleyways were still quiet at the early hour.

"We will be gone long before that occurs. Come on, we are here." Darcy approached the door without hesitation, and his knock was not gentle.

"Well, that is subtle, Cousin. If she owes anyone money, she is sure to open the door now," Richard commented. "It sounds as if you have come to collect."

Darcy glanced at him with a dark expression. "I have, though this will hardly be restitution for her betrayal."

The door opened at that moment, and the woman on the other side moved to close it nearly at the same time at the sight before her. Mr. Darcy's reaction was too quick, however, and his hand kept the door back. "Mrs. Younge," he greeted her with a firm tone.

She glanced between him and Richard nervously. "Mr. Darcy. I did not expect to see you again."

"So soon, you mean," he immediately replied. Her eyes widened only for a moment in response, but it was long enough to confirm his suspicions—Wickham was not finished with the Darcy family.

"I-I do not know what you are referring to, Mr. Darcy." Though her tone was unstable, her gaze was hard as she stared at him.

"Allow us to refresh your memory," Richard responded, pushing the door open further and entering the small room. He glanced around and saw the room was only divided by a curtain, which separated the sleeping area from the front section.

When Darcy entered the space and remained standing by the table, Richard gave one of the two chairs a nervous look before sitting down—as if he was unsure whether or not the rickety old chair would support his weight. The creaking sound that followed had him quickly standing again, though. Mrs. Younge remained close to the door for a moment longer, glaring at them, before she moved and sat down on the other chair. It was clear that they had no plans for an immediate departure.

"When did you last see Wickham, Mrs. Younge?" Darcy asked, meeting her gaze.

She seemed to inwardly debate the answer before she spoke. "He came to see me not long after I moved here."

"Why did he come to see you? And again I ask, _when_ did you see him?" Darcy felt his jaw clenching, suspecting every answer would be pulled from her and not given. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a small velvet pouch and placed it on the table in front of him, his hand remaining on it.

With her eyes fixed on the bag, Mrs. Younge straightened. "It was a little more than a fortnight after my departure from Ramsgate. He said I would see him again and that he never forgets a debt. He said he would make sure—" She suddenly stopped, hesitating.

 _Wickham certainly never forgets what he believes should be his_ , Darcy thought, not believing for a moment that Wickham had any intention to settle debts. Standing tall, Mr. Darcy stared at her and moved the bag closer to him. "He would make sure of what, Mrs. Younge?"

She glanced at him with uncertainty. "I-I … I was supposed to get paid." Then, her expression became harder and her voice rose. "I had been let go without a reference! I needed the money!"

"You hesitated, Mrs. Younge." Darcy's voice became harder when he continued. "I do not believe that you were referring to your own payment. What would he make sure of?"

The movement of her hands revealed her nervousness. "I had no choice. I had no reference."

"Did you truly expect to be treated differently after what you did?" Richard asked, glaring at the woman.

Mr. Darcy stilled, absorbing her words and pieces connected with understanding. "You _had_ been let go. You came to me with a forged reference. How did you obtain a sheet from the marquess' writing materials?"

However, he already suspected the answer. Richard had discovered that the Marquess of Cavendish was searching for Wickham as well, but they had not known the exact reason. With clarity, he suddenly knew the answer was in front of him. "Before Georgiana, there was the marquess' sister, was there not? Wickham had tried this scheme previously."

While Richard glanced at him with comprehension, Mrs. Younge paled. "Please, Sir, t-the marquess … The day he let me go, he was called away and I took the chance. He does not know about … about the reference letter."

While Darcy's hand remained protectively over the pouch, his other was clenched by his side. He had met the marquess years ago at school, but the brief greeting had been the only time they had spoken to each other. The marquess was older and had left school not long after, and due to a noticeable limp, he never attended balls for he did not dance.

"Tell me what happened, Mrs. Younge." Darcy stared at her with a look of revulsion. "When did you place your interest above those under your care?"

She grimaced and looked away. "It is easy to judge when you do not share my concerns, Mr. Darcy. It did not start out this way. Due to the marquess' disability, he prefers the isolation of his country estate, but his sister flourished when she came to London. Mr. Wickham saved her from a runaway horse in the park, and I could not begrudge her the connection I believed they had." Her lip curled with disdain as she continued. "Unfortunately, the housekeeper had written the marquess regarding her concern that I was neglecting my duty. When he arrived at his house here in town, Mr. Wickham was calling on Lady Adelaide. The marquess immediately removed her to the country, while I was let go without a reference."

"You chose to use the forgery to harm my sister, Mrs. Younge." Darcy's hand tightened further as he thought of Georgiana and what nearly happened. "Had it not been for your treachery, you still would have had the position in my household. I would have had no reason to suspect your credentials."

"When I found myself on the cusp of being let go without a reference, Wickham came to me with an offer. He said he would help me with the forgery if I helped him secure Miss Darcy. What choice did I have?" She folded her arms, and though she appeared vulnerable, the lines around her mouth also revealed the determination to survive. "He came to see me after church one Sunday and said it was time. When I told him that I no longer wanted to be part of his designs, he strongly implied that you and the marquess would learn of the forged reference letter. But if I complied, Mr. Wickham said he would pay me."

"You are not the first to fall for his charm, only to be bitten by the snake," Darcy responded tersely.

She met Mr. Darcy's gaze with a hard expression. "If the wealthy can cast us aside, we can do the same. I know what you did to him."

"Only a fool believes a habitual liar," Darcy replied with derision. She appeared startled, though only for a brief moment.

When she did not respond, he asked, "Where is Wickham? For the third time I ask, what would he make sure of?"

"I do not know, but …" She looked down at her lap. "He said he would get what he is owed. He hid here the last time I saw him, and one night he said the Darcys would see him again. Then, he rambled about blemishing the jewel when the light falls on her. I believe he meant Miss Darcy, and I … I fear he feels that I still owe him as well. That is the truth."

 _Georgiana's coming out,_ Darcy immediately thought. "What do you know of his whereabouts?"

Mrs. Younge met his gaze. "You will not find him this close to the harbor. When I heard the marquess' men were asking around, I told him to leave and that is the last I saw of him." She held out her hand. "That is all I know. Now give me the coins."

Darcy picked up the pouch and weighed it in his hand. He loathed giving anything to the woman who hurt his sister, for his good opinion once lost was lost forever. However, he had indicated that he would reward her, and there was also the possibility that Mrs. Younge might learn something beneficial regarding Wickham in the future. Giving the bag another look, he lightly tossed it in her direction. "It would seem your loyalty can be bought. If you hear from him or anything about his whereabouts, make sure I am informed immediately and you will be compensated for the information. However, if I learn that you discovered his whereabouts and did not inform me, you will regret it. I will personally inform the marquess of the forgery."

She grabbed the bag and held it tightly.

"There is no reward in empty promises, Mrs. Younge. Think twice about your decisions in the future, especially if the thought enters your mind to lend Wickham any further assistance," Darcy replied, turning away. As the gentlemen saw themselves out, the sound of coins landing on the table could be heard before the door closed behind them. In a world of greed and self-interest, Darcy thought of Elizabeth's eyes and the honesty in them. The memory of her was a refuge in that moment.

"I believe we should arrange for someone to watch Mrs. Younge," Richard suggested as they returned to the carriage by way of their earlier route.

"Of course." Darcy nodded, appearing thoughtful. "It would seem you were right. The path leads to the marquess."

"From the intelligence I gathered, he is in residence here in town. His men must be close to finding Wickham for him to be here," Richard responded.

"I believe Wickham does not appreciate the seriousness of the mistake he made when he trifled with the marquess' sister," Darcy said severely, and both of them felt the weight of that statement.

Though Darcy did not know the marquess well, it was not difficult for him to imagine how the other man felt, for they were in similar situations. It was common knowledge that both the marquess and Darcy had lost their parents and were taking care of their sister. Thus, both had been hit on very personal ground, which felt vulnerable for different reasons—Wickham had a long history with the Darcys, and surely the marquess felt the danger to his sister more acutely due to his disability. Their ability to guard those under their protection had been challenged.

"We will find Wickham," Richard said as if he had heard his cousin's thoughts.

"I know we will," Darcy replied with determination.

~P&P~

Caroline softly touched the corner of her mouth as her maid did her hair. She had awoken with a smile, but it was unlike the opportunity driven smile when she had first learned Mr. Darcy was joining them. This smile came from a place that felt weightless in her chest yet heavy at the same time in her stomach. Colonel Forster's face appeared before her in her mind, and she struggled to restrain the feeling she experienced—a sensation of happiness longing to burst forth. They could never be, and she told herself that there was no reason to even begin to contemplate the thought. However, she felt caught between her head and her heart all the way down to the breakfast room.

The feeling of simmering elation strangely dimmed when she saw her brother waiting at the foot of the stairs—to be specific, when she saw his countenance, for he did not appear as jovial as he normally did. Her first thought was that something had happened and they had to depart from the neighborhood, causing her to wonder why she experienced disappointment instead of joy. She was sure she would be glad when they finally left, not dejected.

While pondering this strange turn of events, she approached him and searched his expression. "I would ask how you are, but your countenance reveals all. What has happened, brother?"

"I wish Darcy was here," he muttered, appearing anxious. Then, he noticeably attempted to calm himself, and he held his arm towards her. "We need to speak, Caroline. Come with me."

Her brow rose slightly, but she did not ask as she placed her hand on his arm. He led her into his study, and when he had closed the door behind him, Charles walked over to the window and stared at the scenery.

"I do not have all day, Charles. Out with it," she said impatiently when he gave no indication that he was about to say what was on his mind.

He turned from the window with a sigh. "I had hoped for a moment of clarity, as Darcy is always by a window and he always has an answer."

A terrible thought entered Caroline's mind, causing her to place her hand over her heart. "We are not … destitute, are we, Charles?"

He appeared startled as he looked at her. "No! Of course not. Whatever gave you that idea?"

She held her hand over her stomach as she took a deep breath. Then, she stared at her brother with annoyance. "Something has obviously greatly affected you. What else was I to think?" Contempt filled her voice as she continued. "Are we departing the neighborhood and you are reluctant to leave Miss Bennet behind?"

Her brother cleared his throat and his hand brushed the back of his head. "No, we are not leaving. I fear … I fear there is a situation, and I am not sure how to proceed. You see … Sir William approached me last night—"

"Oh, certainly not, Charles! Are you truly expecting me to consider the young Mr. Lucas? There is no chance of that happening," Caroline interrupted him, lowering herself dramatically into a chair. Her mind had already conjured what she believed he wanted to discuss with her. "Honestly, the audacity to think I would. … I do not care for the man, and there is a greater likelihood of me becoming the best of friends with Lydia Bennet. No, definitely not. If you have not done so already, convey my lack of interest as soon you are able to."

He cleared his throat again with his countenance appearing slightly red. "Not him, Caroline. I am afraid that your escapade the other day did not go unnoticed. When you danced with Colonel Forster — twice, I should add — Sir William came to me and asked if the neighborhood should be expecting the announcement of your engagement soon."

Caroline stilled. Her thoughts shattered like a fallen figurine, though even those broken pieces would have made more sense than this. She could not have heard her brother correctly. With her grip tight on the chair, she whispered, "Whose engagement, Charles?"

Her brother appeared uncomfortable. "Sir William had been on his way to Netherfield. When he came around the bend, he saw the colonel with his horse … and you slightly behind me looking not quite like yourself. Moreover, you were not dressed for the outdoors, thus he assumed that in your eagerness to see Colonel Forster, you did not take the time to change."

She spluttered in a manner no one would have believed of Caroline Bingley. "When would I even have arranged the meeting?"

"Sir William asked if there is a previous acquaintanceship." He shifted and placed his hands behind his back. "He said he had not wished to intrude, so he turned back."

"This is absurd!" She felt close to being at a loss for words due to disbelief.

Her brother stared at her, urging her to listen. "This is a serious matter, Caroline."

"It would have been had I been compromised, but that is not the case," she replied impatiently.

The displeased expression on her brother's face made it known that he believed she did not she understand the gravity of the situation. "Caroline, I do not want to speak ill of anyone, but it is no secret in this neighborhood that Sir William and his wife are the worst of gossipmongers. If you want something known, you tell one of them."

Bingley's fair skin turned red. "Sir William seems set on remaining under the impression that he witnessed part of a reunion. He said he was glad to see my presence, and I can only assume he was alluding to your appearance in the field."

Doubt flickered across her countenance before she lifted her chin in defiance. "What did you tell him?"

Her brother could not meet her gaze. "There is not much that I could say, Caroline. I told him we were out walking and Colonel Forster came upon us, but whether or not he believed me, I cannot say." Then, he looked up with a solemn expression. "You may not believe the Lucas family is a danger to your reputation, but scandal has a way of traveling from one drawing room to the next. And you know stories are usually elaborated. If this situation continues … I will have to speak to the colonel. He is innocent, but he is a gentleman. I believe he will do what is necessary."

She stepped back in shock before her determination rose. "You cannot be serious, Charles! You will not do this. I refuse. I am finally close to Mr. Darcy seeing things my way, and I will not allow interference. Those country nobodies will not take my future from me, from us. You know what it will mean to gain Mr. Darcy's connections."

"He is hardly a nobody. Sir William is of higher rank—" Bingley began.

"Not now, Charles!" she interrupted.

"And if you mean Darcy is considering marriage, you may be right, but I would not gamble on the chance of you being his bride." Her brother looked as if he was preparing himself for another scream from her, which had attracted the colonel's attention in the first place.

The look she gave him was worse. "Have you ever spoken to Mr. Darcy of the advantages of such a match?"

"Eh …" If his lack of words did not convey the meaning, then the expression on his face said it all—it would be mostly, if not entirely, the Bingleys who benefitted. "Not in so many words, no. Although, I did tell him once that he is the older brother I never had. Naturally, this was before Louisa married Hurst. As a gentleman, I suppose I should say I now have a brother."

"You have not …?" Her mouth was slightly agape, and then her voice rose. "Has the world gone mad? You know this marriage would greatly benefit us, Charles, and you know how much I desire this match. Yet, you have not used your position to influence the matter! Now I find myself stuck in the country with nobodies threatening my future. I will not stand for this."

She paced angrily to the door, and her fury was tangible when she turned back. "I am not the kind of lady who would tread through the countryside after a man!" Wisely, her brother remained silent, though his averted gaze was enough. Noticing this, she walked closer to him. "I am not! I was out there for _our_ future. If you find yourself trapped in a marriage to a Bennet, there will be another connection to trade. We owe it to father, to ourselves and our descendants to distance ourselves from our roots."

Suddenly, Bingley met her gaze. "So you at least remember our heritage. There are days that I wonder." His voice was firm when he continued. "Leave Jane out of this. She is not the one whose reputation is in a balancing scale."

Dismissing the former part, Caroline gasped. " _Jane_? And when did the lovely creature become _Jane_ to you?"

A small smile briefly appeared on his face. "We spent a great deal of time together last night at the Lucases." Then, he stared at her resolutely. "I will say it again, Caroline—this is not about her. It is about you. I doubt this can be contained if Sir William has told his wife of what he believes he observed."

"That is why you must convince him of the truth at once!" she cried. "I will not be forced into a life that circumstance allotted to me. I have been waiting too long to be the mistress of Pemberley to simply retreat now."

"Marriage is not war, Caroline," Bingley replied.

She paused, and her voice was quiet when she spoke again. "It is in the first circles. There are plans, strategies, and ruthless ambitions. I have had enough of doors closing before me due to our background. It will be different for my children." Her chin lifted slightly. "Speak to Sir William, Charles. If he will not believe the truth, persuade him that it would be better not to speak of it."

He appeared conflicted as he looked at her. "I will speak to him again, Caroline. But there is no guarantee. He may have already spoken to Lady Lucas, especially after the party last night. You did dance twice with the colonel."

Frustration glinted in her eyes. "If Sir William has spread the story, then I will leave. I can visit our aunt until the end of your lease agreement. Hopefully, you will have enough sense not to extend it."

He frowned at her, but he did not respond to the latter part. "Your departure would only worsen things if the story begins to spread. It would not be the best decision regarding your reputation." His expression revealed that he wished there was another way.

"I will not lose my future due to one man and his wife who talk incessantly," she replied angrily. "Do your part by speaking to him, and I will take care of the ladies of that household."

He stared at her warily. "What are you planning to do, sister?"

With a cunning look, she raised an eyebrow. "I am going to call on them. What else?"

With that, she curtsied and departed from the room. She held her head high as she walked to the breakfast room, though inwardly she was shaking with anger and desperation. Surely, one moment could not undo all of her plans, could it? No, she would not allow it to happen. Within the constraints of society there was not much that she could do, but she was well versed in using what was at her disposal.

When she entered the breakfast room and saw her sister, Caroline smiled haughtily. "I hope you do not have any plans for this afternoon, Louisa. It would seem there is a need to call on the Lucases."

* * *

 **AN: Thank you so much for your patience and for all of your support! I truly appreciate it.**


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